


Just this? by blue

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:28:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 60,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23966161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: This is not my fic just archiving it on this website. this fic was originally posted on sword borderline which don't work
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is not my fic just archiving it on this website. this fic was originally posted on sword borderline which don't work

Just This? Introduction by blue  
Intro: The Golden Boy?  
Why did we tell you then  
You were always the golden boy then  
And that you'd never lose that light in your eyes?

"Poles Apart", Pink Floyd

"Damn Harry... I thought you cared!" 

"But I do care, Mark. I really care about my eardrums, too, so could you please stop yelling like that?" Harry Potter answered calmly, yawning lazily. He got up from the couch where he had been watching - for almost half an hour now - his current muggle boyfriend perform the role of the betrayed lover to a T.

The end of another fucking relationship. Oh well. Let's get it over with this shit. And quickly, Harry thought, looking at his soon to be ex-lover from his considerable height.

Mark had closed his mouth and was staring at the ground obstinately. Harry just sighed, bored, just knowing oh-so-well what was coming next, because it always came.

"Mark," he began, as he had begun so many times before, calling so many different names to try and halt a fight.

Since the Boy-Who-Lived had become one of the most famous and appreciated muggle writers, he had become used to get everything he wanted. Nothing could stop him, not even Mark, who kept looking at the ground. Harry continued.

"Mark, look at me." he said calmly, but firmly.

His tone didn't permit silence, and after a while, the younger man gave in and looked up.

Harry considered for a while Mark's warm brown gaze, the soft features of his handsome face and his generous red lips, now trembling nervously in expectation. Just like many others. Nothing new under the sun.

Finally, he stated tiredly, "Well," he sighed. "What do you want me to say, Mark? It has been nice," he said, noticing how the other man flinched at the use of the past tense. He shook his head and went on, firmly decided in finishing this sad confrontation once for all. "You know how these things go. So please, just face the reality: we're through. I know it hurts now, but soon you're going to realize that it's better this way," Harry concluded, making his calm words leave his mouth with the competence created by familiarity.

Then, he patiently began to wait for an answer, that - thanks to his now vast experience in the matters of breaking up - could easily be foreseen: either an angrily yelled "YOU BASTARD! YOU ONLY USED ME FOR SATISFYING YOUR SEXUAL NEEDS", or a sobbing, "please think twice about it". 

Unfortunately, rules have their exceptions. After a minute of strange silence, Harry Potter began to consider the possibility of being faced with one of these exceptions, since he was receiving neither of the considered answers.

"Mark?" He called finally, forced by a sudden urge to bring an end to the matter as soon as possible.

Mark snapped out of his shocked trance and, as if focusing on Harry for the first time, smiled weakly.

"I understand, Harry," he murmured simply.

Clever boy, the raven-haired man thought, slightly surprised by the strange calmness radiating in his dining room. Suddenly Mark sighed deeply, drawing Harry's attention back to him.

"Now, if you excuse me, I'd like to leave as soon as possible, Harry," he said, lifting his gaze until meeting Harry's green eyes. "Could you call me a taxi?" He asked finally.

Harry blinked, then he nodded and grabbed his cordless from the couch. He called for a taxi and finally turned towards Mark, studying curiously the blank expression.

"The taxi will be here in ten minutes," he said tentatively, looking for some kind of reaction. Mark simply nodded.

"Thanks. I'll get my stuff."

Harry blinked again, staring at Mark's form disappear down the corridor, but then he smiled, considering that for once, things had been easier. After a while, his now ex-lover appeared again, carrying a single bag.

"Can I help you with that?" Harry asked with the politeness required for the situation.

"No, there's no need. It's light," Mark answered, and the phone began to ring.

Harry answered it, spoke for a moment, then he turned towards Mark.

"It was the doorkeeper. He says the taxi is waiting."

Mark nodded and moved towards the door, but Harry frowned. There's something wrong here, he thought, looking at the younger man opening the front door. Mark exited, and then he stopped, without turning.

"Harry," he called softly.

Harry frowned again. Did I just think there was something wrong? he considered in tired sarcasm.

"Yes," he asked, knowing that the situation needed to go to its ultimate conclusion.

"The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return," his ex-lover quoted calmly.

Harry frowned. What the hell should this mean, he wondered, slightly annoyed.

"First time you heard this words, you laughed," Mark said, a tone of amusement filling his voice. "You said they were crap. You were probably right, but anyway, call me when you would have learnt to love, Harry, if you will ever learn. Just 'cause the "Famous Harry Potter in Love" is something you don't have the chance to see everyday of your life. And I don't want to take the risk of losing such a show for anything in the world," he stated.

Harry clenched his fist around the doorknob, but didn't answer. Mark sighed.

展ell gotta go now. But please, remember to call me, Harry. You own me this at least, don't you think?" Mark finished, the amusement in his voice now transformed in a more stinging sarcasm.

Harry said nothing, and Mark waited for a while, but then he shrugged and left. The Golden Boy closed the door slowly and leaned against it. He didn't feel bright as his nickname might suggest. Not at all. He cursed himself for having underestimated the matter, this time around.

Never ever take these things so easily again. The moment I get distracted is the moment I get stuck with these annoying gits, he considered angrily, feeling something moving inside his chest.

Then, before that strange sensation could get worse, he slammed his fist against the wood, achieving enough pain to clear away whatever in Mark's speech had touched his inner self, more than he could stand.

He narrowed his green eyes until the sting in his left hand disappeared, and only then he relaxed a bit. He allowed a little disgusted smile to curve his pale lips.

"Bloody love," Harry muttered venomously, while his smile widened. "Damn bloody, stupid thing called love," he said aloud to his empty dining room.

And, after a while, he began to laugh hysterically at the sound of his own angry words.

Go to next part.

people have been to this page since August 18, 2002.  
Part 1: Crazy Diamond  
Remember when you were young, you shone like the sun.  
Shine on you crazy diamond.  
Now there's a look in your eyes, like black holes in the sky.  
Shine on you crazy diamond.  
You were caught in the crossfire of childhood and stardom,  
blown on the steel breeze.  
Come on you target for faraway laughter,  
come on you stranger, you legend, you martyr, and shine!

"Shine On You Crazy Diamond I-V", Pink Floyd

Harry was walking the streets of So-Ho. Just one hour ago, he had left behind the sureness of his flat, trying to escape the air that reigned there, a suffocating atmosphere, filled by the heaviness of unwanted feelings. Harry breathed the cold wet air of a late winter evening deeply, trying to concentrate on forgetting the annoying presence of guilt in his chest.

Waiting at a traffic lights, he gave a look at his watch. 

Half past ten, he observed, slightly disappointed that he hadn't succeeded in forgetting Mark's words yet. It seems I'm going to need a little help, tonight. Finally, he decided, crossing the street and wandering a bit, searching for any place where he could drink something strong enough to make him swallow that sense of bitterness lingering in his mouth.

Finally, in a secondary road, Harry found what he was looking for. He gave a curious look to an elegant entrance without any kind of sign.

It must be a club. Strange that I've never heard about it before, he considered, pushing the door open. It accompanied his entrance with a soft "ding". He narrowed his eyes, trying to adjust his view to the semi obscurity and suddenly he felt a presence at his side and turned, facing a pretty young woman who was smiling at him warmly.

"Good evening sir, and welcome. Could you give me your coat and show me your member card, please?" she asked politely.

Harry blinked in surprise, and then he shrugged, "Sorry, but I don't have a card, miss," he said.

She nodded and smiled again. "There's no problem about it. Could you wait here for a while?"

Harry shrugged and she took that as a yes and so, smiling again, the young woman left quickly.

Harry waited calmly, finally noticing that he was in a sort of waiting room. The main hall of the club was behind the large door through which the pretty girl had disappeared. He didn't like to wait and in any other case, he would have left immediately, but the curiosity was stronger this time and was helping him to forget his troubles for a while.

Harry was still wondering what kind of place this could be when the door opened again and the girl reappeared with a tall handsome man about forty at her side.

The man stepped towards him and smiled warmly holding out his hand "I'm pleased to play host to Harry Potter in my club."

Harry frowned at that statement, but reached for the hand the man was offering him and shook him firmly. "Pleased to meet you Mr...?"

"Mr. Kaul. Matt Kaul."

Harry nodded "Well, Mr. Kaul, I'm sorry but I don't have this... member card thing," he said provoking an amused smile on the man's thin lips.

"I don't think that Harry Potter will need a member card," Mr Kaul assured him, turning towards the girl. "Dana, dear. Take his coat and escort Mr Potter inside," he ordered calmly. Finally, the man looked at Harry again. "I'm sorry but I'm kind of busy right now, but I'm leaving you in good hands, Mr Potter. Have fun, " he said before leaving.

Harry, a bit confused, shrugged and, after giving his coat to the girl called Dana, followed her inside. The young woman led him to a quiet table.

"I'll send you somebody to take your order, sir," she said before leaving.

Harry looked around, noticing the strange light that lit the hall, a sort of soft blue that made everything seem like it was underwater. The place was nice, elegant enough for his taste and as relaxing as his nerves required. He smiled unconsciously, leaning against his chair and giving a look to the menu.

"Can I help you sir?" A smooth voice suddenly dragged him out of his considerations.

Harry nodded. "Could you tell what's this..." He began, raising his gaze to the waiter and stopping abruptly when he focused the man in front of him. Harry blinked, amazed.

The waiter was writing something on a notebook and hadn't noticed the surprised look that he was receiving. While the other was still occupied with his duty, Harry’s green eyes noticed how the blue light reflected on the incredibly blond hair, giving it a strange aura. The longer locks of platinum fell, slightly untidy, around a pale face, which creamy white flawlessness was something quite rare to find.

Harry blinked again, finally regaining his composure the very moment the other man lifted his gaze on him, a silver shocked gaze. Harry smiled, pleased at the astonishment in the other man’s eyes. His smile grew wider when he saw the blonde open his mouth to say something that never came, because Harry prevented him by saying: "Hi, Malfoy."

With those two words, the surprise in Draco's gaze disappeared, substituted by a sudden cold anger. Harry saw him narrowing his eyes, while their silver brightness seemed to change into a darker steel tone.

This is what I would call good entertainment., Harry thought, amused. No matter how bad my day could have been, the pleasure of seeing Draco Malfoy being a muggle waiter, my muggle waiter, makes even my worst day worthy of living, he considered, smiling.

Draco looked down at Harry, feeling a sort of sad desperation surrounding him, but there was no way he would have showed it to his worst enemy. My worst nightmare, he corrected himself, glancing around the room just to be sure that nobody was looking at them.

"Potter, what do you want?" he drawled angrily.

"My, my Malfoy. Do you usually serve -" he pointedly stressed the last word. "- your costumers this way? Mr. Kaul should consider your dismissal," Harry said, still smiling, pleased by his position of superiority towards the other young man.

To Harry, Draco Malfoy had been a pain in the arse for seven years, and no matter how hard he and his friends had tried to ignore him, the slimy git had always been there taunting them mercilessly.

Well. I think I deserve a little revenge now, don't I? he thought, while considering his next move to annoy the ex Slytherin idol. Harry was so lost in his pleasing contemplations that he almost didn't notice that Draco was looking at him with his eyes wide open that showed something like...

Fear? Harry frowned "What's wrong Malfoy? Have you grown attached to this job? You know, serving your neighbour. It's something that really fits you," he commented, staring at Draco in order to note even his slightest reaction.

So, I hit a soft spot, he thought pleased, noticing how Draco's knuckles had gone white, his grip tightening against the notebook he was holding. Harry waited patiently for something more. When he saw Draco opening his mouth, he thought about a nasty remark. Whatever it would have been, it was useless, because the other simply lowered his gaze and said, "What can I take you, sir?"

Harry blinked in surprise, but recovered quickly and laughed, "You play your part quite well, Malfoy."

Draco said nothing, but he continued to look at the ground, his lips pressed in a thin line.

No way you're going to take my fun away, Malfoy, Harry thought angrily. He was about to say something really nasty when somebody intervened in that friendly meeting.

"Mr. Potter, Draco," Mr. Kaul said, "I'm happy to see that you have met each other."

Harry frowned; there was something wrong in the tone of Mr. Kaul's voice, and there was something really wrong in the way Draco had closed his eyes and sighed imperceptibly, wincing slightly.

"Draco, bring some Möet et Chandon for Mr. Potter and me," the man ordered suddenly, drawing Harry out of his reverie.

"Yes, Matt," Draco murmured, leaving quickly.

Mr. Kaul smiled and sat near Harry. "Good boy, Draco," he said warmly, still looking at the slender shape of the fair-haired man. "Very good indeed," he said, turning towards Harry.

The wizard frowned, looking at the man interrogatively.

"You two would get along quite well," Mr. Kaul said. "Even if I'm quite jealous about him, I was considering the possibility of lending him to you tonight."

Harry blinked, his brain processing those words several times before accepting their unmistakable meaning.

"Let's call it a present for your joining in this club, Mr. Potter," the man finished. Before thinking about what he was doing, Harry found himself saying, "It's very kind of you, Mr. Kaul, but I don't think he will agree."

At this, the man laughed lightly. "Why won't he agree? He must accept. It's not as he has any choice on the matter," he said, looking straight into Harry's eyes.

What the hell are you doing? he had just the time to ask himself, before Draco reappeared, bringing a cold bottle of champagne and two flûtes. He placed them carefully on the table and turned to leave when Mr. Kaul called him, "Draco?"

He stopped dead.

"Go change. You're leaving with Mr. Potter tonight."

Draco didn't answer. He felt like somebody had stolen his breath.

This is a nightmare. A fucking nightmare. Now I wake up and... He was trying to convince himself, and he could have succeeded if Mr. Kaul's voice hadn't dragged him back to reality "And I mean all the night, Draco. So there's no need for you to come back here afterwards. See you tomorrow evening," he finished.

Draco didn't know how he could answer that, but with great effort, he felt the oh-so-often-used words leaving his mouth.

"Yes, Matt," he barely murmured before leaving.

Harry had watched the whole scene with detached curiosity, his conscience, or what he still had of it, had let him alone for a change.

I'm going to fuck Malfoy. Oh well, if this isn't having my revenge, he thought smirking.

Finally, he turned and looked at Mr. Kaul that was opening the bottle of champagne.

"You know Mr. Potter, such a delicacy must be served cold," he said, pouring the golden liquid into Harry's glass.

The raven-haired man thought about those words while sipping a bit of the expensive wine.

"You're right, Mr. Kaul. Definitively right," he finally said, smiling pleased.

Go to next part.

people have been to this page since August 18, 2002.  
Part 2: Forbidden Fruit  
I would tell you about the things  
They put me through  
The pain I've been subjected to  
But the Lord himself would blush  
The countless feasts laid at my feet  
Forbidden fruits for me to eat  
But I think your pulse would start to rush

"Walking In My Shoes", Depeche Mode

"Well, Malfoy? What brings you here to the Muggle World?" 

Draco kept on walking calmly without answering Harry's question.

They had left the club a minute ago, heading towards Draco's flat, and since that moment the fair-haired man had been walking silently, his white hands inside the pocket of his coat and his gaze lost somewhere far away.

Harry waited for a while, and when Draco silence was menacing. Becoming persistent, he began again; "I expected you to be living happily ever after at Malfoy Manor, playing at the little brave Death Eater with that lovely father of yours..." Harry taunted.

Oh well, now he's got to answer, he thought when Draco suddenly stopped, but Harry expectations were quickly contradicted. Draco took a slightly crushed packet of Marlboro from his pocket and lit a cigarette.

Harry frowned. "How long have you been smoking?" he asked. 

Draco took a drag of the smoke and turned towards Harry. "How long have you been such an annoying git, Potter?" He drawled just like he used to do during the great old Hogwarts' times.

Finally! This is Malfoy, Harry thought, happily satisfied, pleased of having caused a reaction.

"Well, this is the demonstration that some things never change," Harry said, smirking. "Now, tell me, why is a rich spoiled brat living in the Muggle World, working as a muggle? And which work, if I can tell..." he teased.

Draco took another drag of the smoke, then he looked at him with his cold grey eyes. "Listen, Potter. Since you wanted to, we're going to fuck tonight. Fuck period. Right? So stop with these crap about my life. I don't want to tell you," he paused, lowering his gaze, "and you don't want to know. Believe me," he added, in a quieter tone.

Harry shrugged. "Ok, Malfoy. I won't ask you about your life, but just tell me why that man said you couldn't refuse to do what he told you...?"

Draco sighed. "You never give in, do you?" He shook his head. "I have a debt with him," he explained shortly.

"And does he make you pay it this way?" Harry insisted, following his sudden curiosity.

"Exactly," Draco muttered.

"How much is this debt?"

"35.000 pounds now."

There wasn't much more to add at this point and so they kept on walking silently for a while.

Then, suddenly, Draco spoke, "Who could have said that the Marvellous Harry Potter would become a fag... " he considered out loud and sounding slightly surprised, just as he had though about that little particular for the first time.

Harry frowned, quite annoyed by that remark. "Who could have said that Mr I Own The World would have ended up being a whore," he countered nastily.

If his words hurt Draco he didn't show it, since he simply shrugged and threw away the butt.

"Here we are," Draco said, stopping in front of an old building.

They entered the front door and once inside Draco said tiredly, "The lift is broken. We have to walk up. I'm at the eighth floor." He moved towards the stairs.

When they finally arrived at the door, Harry was panting slightly while Draco, instead, wasn't even sweaty. Harry observed his unnaturally pale complexion while he fished for the keys in his pocket. "Really Potter. I haven't begun and you're breathless yet," he said suddenly in a mocking tone.

Harry glared at him. "I'm glad you find the situation so funny, Malfoy. In your position I wouldn't. Really," he snapped venomously.

Draco turned towards him, clutching the keys in his hand. "Potter. You know nothing about me. So don't assume how I feel," he growled before closing his eyes and sighing deeply, as if trying to regain his cold composure. "Now let's get done with it, so then I can begin working hard on finding a way to convince myself that... this never happened," he said, finally opening the door.

They went in and Draco took off his coat, throwing it on a old couch. Harry did the same and they looked at each other for a long while.

Finally Draco broke the silence; "Potter, can I ask you a favour?" he asked slowly.

Harry flinched slightly at that strange request, a request coming from somebody like Malfoy, but then everything was strange that night, wasn't it? And so Harry nodded, ready to listen to Draco's question.

"Don't say anything," Draco said softly, almost pleadingly, and Harry nodded again, without even knowing why.

They looked at each other for another long while, attentively, then Draco lowered his gaze and moved his slender fingers to the buttons of his shirt. He undid it slowly and, after a moment, Harry could see his bare chest, slim but defined under that creamy flawless skin. The raven-haired man unconsciously licked his lips while Draco moved towards him, closing the little distance that was taking them apart. Tentatively, he reached Harry's chest with his hands, caressing it lightly through the fabric of Harry's clothes, then his fingers raised until meeting the bare skin of Harry's neck. Harry shivered while something in his mind screamed THIS IS MALFOY!

He shut that voice out, concentrating again on Draco's fingers that were now helping him to get rid of his own shirt.

Draco looked at Harry's chest, observing the slightly bronzed colour of his warm skin. He caressed it with his fingers at first, then he placed his lips on Harry's neck, kissing and licking a tender spot until Harry answered to his touch, moaning.

Suddenly, Draco found himself begrudingly thinking that Harry tasted good and he continued kissing and licking his skin until he reached Harry's chest. Draco slowly sucked his nipples, while his hands ran over Harry's skin incessantly, obtaining the same moans in response.

After a while, he went on, tracing a way of light kisses down, and down, until Draco found himself on his knees in front of Harry, and he let his fingers dance on the buttons of the raven-haired man's trousers. After a while they were lying abandoned at the floor, but neither cared about this, because now Harry could feel the warm breath of Draco's mouth reaching his sex through the thin fabric of his underwear, while those skilled fingers where finding their way inside his pants.

When they finally reached his pulsing sex, Harry sighed deeply.

Draco caressed his cock lightly, but then the pressure grew, making Harry moan in pleasure under the effect of each slow movement of the fair-haired man's hands. Draco continued teasing Harry's cock for a while, studying the considerable length he had now in his hands. Then, suddenly, he took the tip of it in his mouth, savouring Harry's salty taste.

Harry couldn't help but sigh deeply at that wet warmth that was enveloping his sex and unconsciously he pushed his hands through Draco's silky hair, caressing his scalp. Draco answered by taking Harry's cock deeper in his mouth, while his tongue moved slowly around the tip of it.

Harry began to breathe harder, while his hands followed the movements of Draco's head, until the torment suddenly stopped. Harry moaned in disappointment, and Draco smirked when getting up. He moved towards his bedroom, drawing Harry with him. Once there, he pushed the raven-haired guy on the bed and quickly finished taking the clothes from his warm body. Then, slowly, Draco took off his own clothes.

Harry looked at Draco's naked body, noticing that he was simply perfect.

Draco noticed the lustful look in Harry's eyes and smiled inwardly in satisfaction. At least he's enjoying this, Draco thought. And suddenly a part of his mind answered him, Why aren't you having fun, too?

He blinked at that thought and shook his head in order to get rid of it, but it was a quite useless, now that he was looking at Harry lying naked on his bed, aroused because of what he was doing. Ok. I'm unexpectedly having fun but there's no way I'm going to admit it, not even on my dying day. And especially not to him, he thought, crawling on the bed near Harry.

Quickly, Draco reached that burning skin, teasing it with his light touch, and then his mouth came back on Harry's pulsing sex, pushing his excitement as far as it could go without reaching the climax. Finally, he stopped again and lay down on the bed, while Harry got up and looked strangely down at Draco through his glasses. Draco closed his eyes, trying to relax, expecting Harry to take his own pleasure now, but the raven-haired man seemed hesitating. Draco opened his eyes again, only to find a strange smirk on Harry's lips and a dangerous look in his eyes.

What's wrong now? Draco could barely think before Harry leaned against him and bit lightly the creamy skin of his neck. Draco opened his eyes wide, surprised by Harry's action and by the way he was reacting to it. Harry continued licking his skin, just like he had done before. He sucked his nipple and caressed his sex, obtaining suffocated moans from Draco's lips.

Harry enjoyed looking at the helpless Draco under his touch, it aroused him even more knowing that the always cold and detached man had lost his self control because of his hands on his skin and on his cock. Secretly, Harry wanted to make him enjoy their game too. Making Draco Malfoy admit that actually he had wanted to be fucked by Harry Potter, well, this would really have been a breakthrough in Harry's mind.

Let's take our little angel down between the mortals, let's brake him and made him cry, Harry thought, smirking, while his hands and his mouth teased Draco, pushing him dangerously towards the limit.

Harry smile widened while Draco squirmed under his touch and suddenly the Golden Boy did something that people didn't expected coming from a loyal Gryffindor: he broke his promise.

"Malfoy..." he called, brushing his lips against Draco's skin. The fair-haired man didn't answer and so Harry licked his way on that slender neck until reaching Draco's ear. He spoke again, his breath teasing Draco madly. "Tell me Malfoy... are you enjoying this?" Harry asked, looking as Draco's unfocused eyes seemed to came back to reality giving a look to Harry that could be placed midway between horror and shame.

"Potter... I..." Draco began, but Harry cut off any recrimination stroking his erection even harder, making him jerk his head backward on the pillow where his platinum hair spread like ray of light.

Suddenly, Harry stopped, taking Draco's wrist in his hands, immobilizing him. Draco blinked several times, until he realized what was happening. "Potter... Don't," he managed to say, shivering uncontrollably under Harry naughty green gaze.

"Don't what, Malfoy?" Harry asked innocently, his fingers digging deeply and painfully into Draco's wrists.

Draco narrowed his eyes; I'm going to have bruises tomorrow, he thought unconsciously, while trying to gain a little breath to answer Harry. "Don't try to fuck with my mind, Potter," Draco growled.

Harry chuckled evilly, his eyes firmly fixed on Draco's. "Don't worry, Malfoy. I'm just going to fuck you," he said. Draco narrowed his eyes; "What the hell are you waiting for, then," he drawled struggling to get free from Harry's painful grip. Harry smiled almost sweetly. "I'm just waiting for you to beg me." Draco stopped struggling at this and looked at Harry, frozen. But Harry didn't care, and he allowed his smile to widen while keeping on talking, "Because you're going to beg me, aren't you, Draco? You are going to tell me four magic words..." Harry said brushing his mouth on Draco's skin while the fair-haired man struggled. "You're going to say..." Harry nipped Draco's earlobe, making him sigh painfully... "...Please... Harry... Fuck... Me..." Harry said, imitating Draco's drawl and suddenly freeing the fair-haired man's from his grip.

Draco was breathing heavily now, trying hard to not look at Harry, trying hard to ignore his excitement and that little voice in his head that was actually ready to plead for Harry to fuck him senseless.

I won't beg. Damn, I WON'T BEG! Draco thought desperately. With a glance, he registered Harry licking lazily at his own fingers.

No... Draco could barely think before Harry began to push a finger inside him, while his other hand played lightly on his erection.

"Draco? Open your eyes and look at me," Harry ordered, and Draco obeyed, sighing deeply while Harry pushed deeper and added a second finger inside him.

He's giving in, Harry noticed while he looked at Draco's eyes that were again losing their focus.

"Tell me Draco. Just tell me," he said, pushing his fingers as far as they could go, while he stroked Draco's cock lightly but incessantly.

I won't beg... Draco continued repeating in his mind, while Harry's words filled his ears. "Do you like it, Draco? Is it good?" I won't... good... I won't beg... yes it's... I... really... like... it... Draco's mind was racing.

"Do you..." Harry pushed, "like..." he stroked, "it?" The pleasure was unbearable; it was filling Draco's body making every cell of his being scream...

"Yes," he said, finally giving in and closing his eyes, missing Harry's smile.

"Yes what?"

No answer.

"Draco, yes what?" Harry insisted naughtily. "Draco?"

"Yes, I like it," Draco snapped.

"Oh... good boy, Draco..." Harry teased, still stroking and penetrating him. Draco felt the pleasure growing again and moaned. "Now tell me... Do you want me to fuck you?" Harry asked innocently.

Draco didn't answer, feeling that if he agreed with that, there would have been nothing left of his pride, of his detachment. "Give in, Draco. You want me to fuck you. And we both know it."

No. No. No.

"Give in Draco." Harry whispered, And let me feel how is like to have complete power over you... he thought, smiling. "Draco."

No. Please, Draco thought, pleading his body to stop enjoying what Harry was doing, but it was useless.

"Tell me Draco..."

Draco sighed deeply. "Harry..." he moaned finally, but Harry said nothing, waiting for Draco's pride to crumble completely. "Oh God... Harry..." Draco said, melting helplessly under Harry touch, but still trying to resist. And then Harry placed his mouth on his sex, sucking it with painfull slowness. Draco almost cried out in frustration, feeling every muscle of his body tense and scream for relief.

Draco closed his eyes and clenched his fists, digging his nails in the palm of his hands. "Harry. Fuck. Me. Please," and as the words left his mouth, he felt a sudden sadness making its way under his pleasure; he knew that he had lost whatever dignity had left in his messed up life.

I hate you Potter, he thought while Harry replaced his fingers inside Draco with his pulsing cock, I fucking hate you, Harry, he repeated in his mind while a single tear of shame and anger ran down his cheek unseen. I hate you, Draco kept on thinking until he couldn't, until the pleasure overwhelmed him, covering everything with a sudden strong dizziness.

And while he lay down on the bed trying hard to regain his breath and his control, Harry looked at that slender white shape, smiling satisfied for two main reasons: one, he had just had the better shag of his life and two, he had a thought running madly in his mind... I won.

Go to next part.

people have been to this page since August 18, 2002.  
Part 3: Day After   
You come across impure  
I didn't mean it  
You're goddamn immature  
I didn't mean it  
You act so insecure  
I didn't mean it  
You hate me now I'm sure  
I didn't mean it

"Slackerbitch", Placebo

They were tiredly lying on the bed. Harry opened his eyes and began to look around lazily, blinking at the early morning sun, which streamed from a window, playing shadows of light on Draco's back. Then his eyes fell on Draco, who was restless in his sleep. 

Harry sighed and reached the packet of Marlboro abandoned on the bedside table. When he moved, his arm brushed Draco's skin. Harry stood still for a while, fearing of having woken the blond up, but when nothing happened, he fished a cigarette and lightened it, taking a deep drag of the smoke.

Harry wasn't used to this addiction, mainly because he didn't usually see the appeal of smoking, but there was nothing he couldn't do if he wanted to, and now he wanted to smoke.

Well, actually this was his addiction: obtaining what he wished.

And this isn't easy to reach as a packet of cigarettes... he pondered, smirking and thinking about his last conquest, his last victory. Harry analysed the perfect shape of the fair-haired man at his side.

Draco was beautiful and this was just a fact. Not only handsome, nor simply pretty, but just beautiful, like one of the angel painted on the most famous chapels in the world.

And having touched this perfection - that Harry had secretly admired, since the times of Hogwarts - having put his skilled fingers of Seeker on that living masterpiece, well, this really gave a special taste to the black-haired wizard victory.

Don't forget his hate... Harry considered smirking again, conscious that a large part of his happiness was given by having cut through Draco's thick shield of arrogance and self-control.

Now Harry felt a lazy sense of satiety, just like when, after a three hours Quidditch match against the Slytherin team, he finally closed his tired fingers around the little golden ball he had longed for since the very beginning of the game.

Have I *longed* for Malfoy? The Harry wondered getting up from the bed and putting on his pants and his trousers.

He shook his head.

No way. I just wanted to beat him. The Quidditch pitch or a bed, it doesn't matter as long as there is a challenge between us, Harry considered, amused. I was the best in Quidditch. I've been the best *tonight*, he concluded, crushing the butt of his cigarette in the ashtray.

Harry kept on dressing absently, still replaying the events of the last night in his head, still congratulating with his proud inner self for having perfectly repaid seven years of Malfoy's taunting, and he didn't notice a pair of grey eyes looking at him interrogatively.

"Harry," a sleepy smooth voice said.

He turned and looked coldly at Draco, who blinked, puzzled.

Harry smiled reading the confusion on the blonde-haired man face.

"Good Morning Malfoy. Did you sleep well?" he asked sarcastically while Draco blinked again, as trying to wake up.

"Harry, I..." the fair-haired man began again but Harry interrupted him abruptly "Yes, Malfoy?"

Draco looked at him for a long while, the realization dawning in his cloudy grey eyes, and then he lowered his gaze to the ground.

Harry shook his head.

"What did you want to tell me, Malfoy? Maybe how much you enjoyed last night?" he suggested mischievously, a smirk on his lips.

Oh well, if this isn't a blushing Malfoy... Harry thought, noticing an unusual red tinge colouring the pale skin of Draco's cheeks, behind his untidy platinum locks.

The fair-haired man didn't answer. Actually he couldn't, because he felt something like a black cloud of anger, sadness and disbelief obscuring his mind and leaving a single painful answer: What's wrong with me?

When Draco found enough courage to lift his silvery gaze on Harry, the black-haired wizard was completely dressed and ready to leave.

"Well," he said, approaching the bed. Draco looked at Harry. The Gryffindor raised his hand until his fingers were brushing the skin of the Slytherin’s cheek, and then raised his hand again and raked his fingers slowly through his fair hair. Draco closed his eyes and shivered involuntarily while Harry laughed, drawing back his warm hand and that sense of frightening certainty it took with it.

Harry stepped back and searched his pocket. Finally, he laid some crumpled notes on the bed, next to Draco and he turned, really ready to leave now.

"Har... Potter," Draco called, his voice back to his old angry drawl.

Harry turned towards him and looked at him interrogatively, arching his eyebrows.

"Yes, Malfoy?"

"Those," he said pointing at the one-hundred-pounds notes abandoned on the white sheets. "It's too much."

Harry smiled, a soft evil smile that Draco had never seen before on the Golden Boy's lips, not even when the pale Slytherin had insulted him and his friends with his nastiest words. And this was the reason why, looking at that dangerous curve of Harry's lips, the fair-haired man barely resisted the urge of trembling.

"Really? They're only one thousand pounds. You should have a better consideration of yourself, " Harry stated grinning.

Then, he shook his head and went on, with his voice smooth as silk but cold as steel.

"Actually, I think that there's no price for what I had tonight. Really, a Malfoy, Draco Malfoy begging to be fucked by Harry Potter. It's something invaluable in my humble opinion. You, fighting the pleasure I was giving you and losing helplessly in the end... and the shame in your eyes... What bothers you the most, Malfoy? Having been forced to be my whore for a night or having enjoyed it?"

Draco shook his head tiredly and looked straight into Harry's eyes, trying his best to hide the hurt that filled his grey gaze.

"Why are you doing this Potter? This isn't you..." Draco said, his voice sounding empty.

Harry chuckled and smiled again at the fair-haired man, a bit more sweetly this time: "My, my, Malfoy... Maybe this wasn't me... But it's me now. And about my reasons... I'm doing this basically because... I can," he finished shrugging.

Malfoy stared at him blankly and silently. Harry shook his head.

"Sorry, Malfoy, for having destroyed your sweet memory about that fucking Golden Boy that I happened to have been during Hogwarts' times," Harry said angrily.

He waited for an answer that never came. Draco was too busy in mending the broken pieces of that thing that once was Draco Malfoy, and he didn't even glance at the raven-haired man who, after a while, left without looking back.

Three weeks later Harry had practically forgotten that night. He had been completely absorbed in solving the several troubles the editing of his last book had caused and the recollection of his victory over Draco was something sweet but distant.

Anyway, even if his book was finally completed and safe on Harry's publisher's desk, the famous write wasn't about to think about that little event a second time.

So, on a rainy Monday evening, with his mind still racing on his book and light-years away from the pale shape of a man called Draco Malfoy, Harry arrived at a well-known door, whistling a stupid tune, and after a while rang the bell.

After a while, the door opened and a beautiful young woman appeared behind it.

"Hi Herm," Harry said smiling warmly. Hermione smiled in return, leaning towards Harry to kiss his cheek lightly, brushing her soft chocolate hair on his neck.

"Hi Harry," she said. "Come in. Ron isn't here yet."

"Late as usual, our red-head, isn't he?" he asked mockingly, knowing the answer already.

Harry, Hermione and Ron had been meeting at the witty witch's home almost once a week since they left Hogwarts. And Ron had always been late, as far as Harry could remember.

They were still friends, the same best friends and the same "magic trio" they had been during their school time, even if they had changed a lot. Actually, Harry wasn't the only living as a muggle: Hermione was now a journalist and she often worked with Ron, who had become photographer.

Harry had always suspected, or at least hoped, that the two of them were sharing something more than just a job, but if after seven years of school and three years of work together they hadn't started something more serious yet, well, the Gryffindor began to think that the possibility of ever seeing a deeper kind of relationship involving Ron and Hermione was a delusion.

On the other hand, he really couldn't talk about delusions, since everybody thought that, once out of Hogwarts, the Golden Boy would have soon ended up with a good and pretty girl. Well, even an evil and ugly one... but definitively a feminine kind...

So Hemione and Ron's surprised faces when he introduced them his first boyfriend, didn't bother him too much. And actually, once they overcame the initial shock, Harry's once best friends kept on being his best friends and supporters.

"Well, how is your work going, Harry? You were quite busy last week, and we hadn't had our ritual weekly dinner because of you," Hermione accused jokingly, offering a drink to the black-haired man sitting on her couch.

"Oh Herm, I'm sorry about that, but that bloody book needed to be edited properly... I've lost sleep finishing it," Harry answered tiredly.

His friend nodded.

"I can imagine it," she said smiling sweetly. "But d'you know? They say that probably you'll be the one to win that award."

"Really?" Harry asked surprised. "I don't know... There are a lot of good writers to take part in this competition... I don't think I'll win that easily," he considered finally, frowning slightly.

"This is true, but you're the best Harry. And then, I've never seen you lose any kind of competition," she stated, and as her words left her mouth, Harry was hit by a sudden flash of a grey lustful glance.

He smiled pleased, suddenly recalling Draco's taste on his lips.

"Harry?" Hermione called puzzled.

"Yes?" Harry answered blinking.

His friend chuckled.

"You were daydreaming. You really must have lost a lot of sleep on that book," she noticed.

"Well, once it was you that spent your nights closed in the library..." he recalled.

Hermione nodded, her mind went back to the school she loved so much.

"Tell me, Herm. What would you think if I said Draco Malfoy?" Harry asked suddenly.

The woman snapped out of her sweet reverie and blinked.

"Malfoy? That little spoiled brat? Why Harry," she complained. "Are you trying to ruin my good memories of Hogwarts? Malfoy was something I really wanted to forget. And I'd have almost succeeded if you hadn't said his name now," she said pouting.

Harry laughed: "Sorry Herm. I'll do anything so that you'll forgive me."

"Well, you could begin opening the door for Ron," she suggested smiling, while the doorbell rang madly. "He always rang that poor bell like this," Hermione added, shaking her head.

Harry got up and opened the door, facing an excited Ron.

"Harry!" he almost yelled in surprise. "I was just looking for you!" he said excited.

Harry frowned.

"What's wrong Ron?"

"Wrong? Nothing wrong! What's could be wrong in winning that bloody award?" he asked smiling happily.

Harry blinked.

"You're joking, aren't you?"

"Well, as you like it Harry... but please, stay still for a photo and prepare your pen for some autographs," Ron said as seriously as he could.

"What's happening here?" Hermione asked, appearing at the dining room door, her arms folded in front of her chest and a smirk on her lips.

"Ron says I won the award," Harry said flatly, not willing to believe his friend’s words.

"Is it the truth, Ron?" she asked.

"It is the bloody truth, Herm!" he insisted. "I'm just coming from the press office of the competition!"

"Well, then... congratulations Harry," she said smiling warmly. "I told you that you would have won. The least you could do for me is let me have the exclusive on the award."

Harry sighed pinching his nose behind his glasses.

"Oh well. I think I don't have choice, do I? And besides, I have something for which I need to be forgiven." he said smiling.

"Forgiven?" Ron asked.

"Exactly. While waiting for you, we talked for a while and Harry made me remember of an amazing bouncing ferret," she began.

"Malfoy??? Harry? We should be celebrating tonight and planning about Saturday evening, not thinking about a nightmare that lasted seven years!"

Ron complained, lying on the couch with a disgusted look on his face.

Harry shook his head.

"Ok, right. I'm sorry about the... erm... Malfoy thing... let's talk about something else, ok?" he suggested hopefully.

"Are you taking Mark to the award?" Hermione asked, while setting the table.

"Actually I'm not," Harry admitted sighing. "We broke up three weeks ago."

An awkward silence followed, until Hermione spoke again, her voice showing her sincere regret.

"Oh Harry, I didn't mean to... I'm sorry."

He smiled sweetly, easing the atmosphere.

"Really, Herm, don't be. I'm not," he assured.

"Mmm... This is no good," Ron stated, sipping his Martini. "People expect to see you with your last conquest. Especially the girls were longing to see the lucky guy at your side. My, my Harry, leaving the poor Mark just before the award… it wasn't a wise move. It will affect your image," the red-haired man stated mockingly.

But Harry answered seriously.

"No, you're right Ron. Sometimes I think I really need somebody, but without the lovely-sweet-caring thing," he said, thoughtfully.

"Harry, you said you didn't care about Mark, but it seems that this breaking up affected you more strongly than you wanted us to believe."

Harry didn't answer but let his gaze wander around, still considering the sudden emptiness that Mark had left behind, that emptiness that actually had never been filled, because as long as things get complicated, Harry broke off with them.

"Well, Herm, I think Harry needs a bit of safe sex without love implications. Let's call it a change. The matter is: who would knowingly accept to be shagged heartlessly?" Ron said laughing slightly.

"Yeah, who?" Harry echoed distantly, without noticing the worried look Ron and Hermione exchanged, listening at his voice resounding strangely serious in the room.

Go to next part.

people have been to this page since August 18, 2002.  
Part 4: Just This?  
Like the naked leads the blind.  
I know I'm selfish, I'm unkind.  
Sucker love I always find,  
Someone to bruise and leave behind.

All alone in space and time.  
There's nothing here but what here's mine.  
Something borrowed, something blue.  
Every me and every you.  
Every me and every you,  
Every Me...

"Every Me, Every You", Placebo

If it was true that Harry hadn't thought about Draco for three weeks after their meeting, it was even truer that, since he had unwillingly pronounced his name during the dinner with Ron and Hermione, the thought of the fair-haired man hadn't let him go once.

Actually, it was just during that dinner that a twisted idea had begun to take shape in Harry's head, and after a while, it had become so intruding that the Gryffindor lost three night of sleep because of it, three long nights in which he considered every possibility, before finally, on the evening of the fourth day, taking his sports BMW and driving towards a well-known street where there was a certain elegant entrance without any kind of sign.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter," the same pretty young woman greeted him as he entered.

"Good evening, Dana," he answered giving her his coat. "Could you please tell Mr. Kaul that I need to talk to him?" he asked. "Privately," he added after a while.

The girl nodded and disappeared. Then, she came back and led Harry to another door and through a corridor until they finally reached Mr. Kaul’s office. Dana knocked at the door lightly and when the voice of her boss answered, she left.

Harry pushed the door open and went in, while the man got up from his desk and came toward him, holding out his hand. Harry shook it firmly.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter. I'm glad to see you again. Dana told me you had something to tell me. What can I do for you?" he asked, sitting back on his armchair, behind the desk.

Harry settled on a chair in front of him and smiled strangely, narrowing his eyes.

He began the speech that had swirled in his mind for four days now, and while he spoke, a single thought ran continuously in his head: I'm Harry Potter and I obtain what I want. *Always*.

"Draco?" a voice called softly.

"Yeah?" he answered, placing the orders he had just took on the counter. Then he turned. "Tell me Dana," he said, managing a little smile on his pale lips.

Dana tore her gaze from the man she had learned to admire since she had begun working there. Actually, she didn't really know what happened every time Draco disappeared with some of the guests, but she could easily imagine from the tired look on that angelic face every time he came back.

She clearly remembered Draco going away with that Harry Potter last time. She also remembered how upset he was afterwards, even if he did his best, as usual, to hide his state of mind. Draco's control was another of the reasons why Dana admired the fair-haired man so much. She knew she would never have been able to remain so distant and cold if she were ever subjected to the attentions that Draco had so often received.

Fortunately, she didn't really need that job as much as Draco did, and there was no way that Mr. Kaul could force her to do something she didn't wanted to. The real reasons why her boss wanted her working there were her loyalty and her attention to whatever happened in the club, qualities that often had come useful in Mr. Kaul's business. And now, that very same attention and the inability to tear her eyes from that candid and perfect figure had enabled her to detect even the slightest change in Draco's expression. She flinched as he smiled at her, because his lips seemed to say that smiling was actually the last thing he wanted to do in that moment.

"Mr. Kaul want to see you, Draco," she murmured, registering the tired look in the fair-haired man gaze as he nodded and moved towards his boss' office.

"And... Draco," she called again, stopping him.

"Yes?" he asked softly.

"There's that Harry Potter with him," she said shortly, flinching again as a note of despair made itself clear on Draco's face.

"He... Is he there?" he asked again, while the information slowly sunk into his consciousness.

She nodded. "I thought you wanted to know."

He didn't answer nor moved, but simply stood still, his grey gaze lost in space.

Dana shook her head and suddenly, unable to resist that strange impulse, hugged him, feeling for the first time that slender shape in her arms, breathing his sweet bitter scent.

Draco blinked as waking up, taking notice of a little warm body wrapped protectively around him. A strange sadness filled his chest but he didn't move, secretly enjoying that show of care, something he didn't happen to receive everyday.

"Good luck, Draco," finally she murmured against his chest before parting from him.

Then he placed his white hands on her shoulders and looked at her with his silver eyes, now smiling a little sad smile, but strangely the first real smile he had shown in a long time.

"Thanks Dana," he whispered, slowly leaning towards her until placing a gentle kiss on her cheek.

The girl shivered at that contact, feeling as the world had stopped. But as he parted, everything began to move again as usual.

Dana blinked looking at Draco leaving and, in that moment she suddenly knew that it was the last time she would have ever seen him.

"Draco, come in," Mr. Kaul said warmly.

Draco pushed the door and entered the office, managing to remain cold and detached even if the view wasn't really comfortable.

"Mr. Potter here has something to tell you," his boss explained getting up. Then, Mr. Kaul spoke to Harry.

"I'll be in the other room if you need me." Then, he left.

The door closed behind the man with a soft click, but Draco didn't move.

Harry was looking at him, and Draco was staring back, secretly hoping that in the sudden silence that permeated the room, the other couldn't perceive his heartbeat.

Calm down, Draco, he said to himself. He just came here to fuck me, he thought coldly. And possibly to hurt me... Draco added finally, smiling inwardly at his sudden explosion of irony.

"Malfoy, sit down," Harry said softly.

"No thanks. I prefer to stand."

"Sit down," Harry said again, his voice suddenly changing its tone dangerously.

Draco blinked at the order but eventually he sat down in front of Harry. The fair-haired man was too busy keeping on his cold façade - slowly and painfully rebuilt during those three weeks - to argue further.

Harry sighed and leaned towards Draco, placing his elbows on his knees and rubbing his eyes behind the glasses. Draco stared at him numbly.

"Well, Malfoy. I'm going to tell you something, but I'm going to tell you it just once." Harry began, observing the blank look Draco was returning him.

"Did you understand?" he asked unsure.

After a while Draco nodded and Harry continued.

"I just had a talk with Matt. A quite animated one," he said, smiling. "And the subject of the conversation was you," the dark-haired wizard explained, waiting for a reaction from Draco.

Nothing, Harry noticed perplexed after a while, but he went on nevertheless.

"I paid your debt," finally he said, hoping that this could shake that cold grey stare. But Draco barely frowned.

"Should I thank you?" he asked flatly.

Harry smiled a little. The famous Malfoy's sarcasm. It's not much but it's a beginning, he thought amused.

Finally he shook his head and continued.

"No, I don't think so. Because you know I don't to anything for anything."

"I see." Draco drawled uninterested.

Harry sighed deeply and began to explain.

"Actually I bought your debt, so you still have it, but now, it’s with me."

"How do you expect me to pay it? Are you planning to begin a racket of prostitution? Great choice Potter, very trendy. I couldn't have a better idea myself," he stated flatly.

"Well, actually even if having you work as a whore for me would be... funny, no, this wasn't what I was planning for you," Harry said smirking calmly.

"It wasn't, was it?" Draco echoed narrowing his eyes and beginning to feel a burning anger rush through his veins, warming his cold blood and making him want to hit Harry until he could wipe that smug grin from his face. But he restrained himself, suddenly wanting to know more, suddenly scientifically interested in observing the way that little perverted mind worked behind those innocent glasses.

"Lately, I've been needing somebody by my side. Somebody who could help me and sustain me, be at my disposal when I needed him and disappear when I didn't," Harry explained.

"Mmm... Have you ever considered a willing boyfriend, Potter? Otherwise I could suggest you a full-time whore," Draco said coldly.

"Yeah. But I broke up with the last boyfriend just the day of our friendly meeting," he said, not missing the way Draco flinched at the recollection of that night. "And I'm not the kind for the 'whore thing'..."

"Oh you aren't, are you?" Draco stated sarcastically, his grey eyes flashing with anger.

Harry ignored him and went on. "The real problem is that I don't want to worry about the 'love' thing that, unfortunately, seems to be an indispensable component of the 'willing boyfriend' option. Can you understand why, Malfoy?"

"Poor Potter. We don't want to get too involved, do we? As somebody gets near your heart you shove him away, right?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "What happened to our trusty Gryffindor to change him into an heartless bastard?" finally Draco snapped.

But Harry didn't take offence at the nasty remark, smiling instead and continuing his speech. "You understand completely, Malfoy. But, that's not surprising. You've always been the cunning Slytherin," Harry stated amused.

Draco frowned at those words, too close to a compliment.

"Now, try to imagine how you can take part in solving my problem," Harry suggested smirking.

And Draco felt a sudden realization dawning in his mind

"No," he barely whispered, narrowing his grey eyes.

"No, what?" Harry asked, his smile widening.

"You want me to play the part of the lovely boyfriend," Draco muttered, and Harry nodded.

"Bingo!" the Harry said happily. "You'll be mine for two months. At the end of the term, your debt will be cleared and you'll receive an additional 35000 pounds."

Draco blinked, his brain working hard in processing the unexpected information.

"70000 pounds for two months of my life?" the fair-haired man asked rhetorically.

But Harry answered anyway "You see, you'll earn even more than last time," Harry pointed out. "On the other hand, I told you to have a higher self-worth of yourself..."

"You told me that humiliating me was priceless, too," Draco retorted bitterly.

"Why, Malfoy? Did I humiliate you?" Harry asked, feigning an innocent surprise.

Draco looked at him in a way that made Harry regret his words, but the feeling was gone as quickly as it had arrived, and the raven-haired man asked: "Then?"

"Then what? It seems a matter of common knowledge that lately I don't have a bloody say in whatever shit happens to me." Draco stated tiredly.

"Do you want to know the conditions?" Harry asked.

"Conditions?" Draco questioned flatly.

Harry nodded and began: "You simply have to move to my house for this period of time. You'll have your own room where you could put your things and pass your free time. I'll give you enough money for everything you could need. When I'm away you can do whatever pleases you. But when I'm around you will do whatever pleases me. You'll have to stay by my side during mundane meetings and act like you actually are my caring and loving boyfriend. You'll be polite and kind to my friends. You'll call me ‘Harry’ and I'll call you ‘Draco’. And there will not be arguing about my wishes," Harry said. Then he dangerously narrowed his green eyes and added, "Is this clear?"

His voice was suddenly sharp and cold but Draco blinked unaffected.

"Anything else?" the he asked, sighing.

"No. Actually, there's one last thing," Harry said, looking straight in Draco's eyes. While an amused smile shadowed his lips, he added, "You're going to share my bed."

Go to next part.

people have been to this page since August 18, 2002.  
Part 5: Clear  
You're taking the fun  
Out of everything  
You're making it clear  
When I don't want to think  
You're taking me up when  
I don't want to go up anymore  
I'm just watching it all

"There's No Other Way", Blur

Draco closed the door softly and put the keys into his coat’s pocket. Then, he closed his eyes and waited until he was certain that he had enough self-control to face what was coming next. Draco gave a last look at the door of his flat and finally, trying hard to not think about where he was going and with who, he picked up his bag, turned and slowly went downstairs.

Outside it was raining and the evening was cold and wet.

Draco spotted the silver-grey BMW waiting across the street. He quickly reached it and got into the car.

"You took long." Were the first words that greeted him.

"I wanted to be sure I hadn't left anything," Draco answered cautiously, looking out of the window, suddenly very interested in every little drop of water that hit the glass.

Harry gave him a sideways glance and grinned inwardly, imaging the battle that was taking place inside Draco at that moment.

The rest of the journey was travelled in silence. When they finally arrived, it was raining cats and dogs. Draco got out of the car. While he waited for Harry to come back from the garage, he stepped into the rain. The fair-haired man looked at the building in front of him, and then over it, at the dark sky covered by clouds.

"What are you doing still here? Get in, you're soaked," Harry's voice stated annoyingly behind his shoulders.

Draco looked at the sky one last time before nodding and silently following Harry inside the building, and then inside the lift, until they reached the black-haired wizard's penthouse.

"This is your room," Harry said, opening a door.

Draco left his bag on the floor and followed the other around the flat.

"Here's the kitchen, but usually I eat out," he explained, smiling a little, realizing that he had never used the cooking stove.

Draco was still silent and Harry could notice the tension enveloping his slender body. The fair-haired man looked around uncomfortably, shifting his weight on his legs nervously.

Harry sighed and suddenly asked: "Why did you accept?"

The former Gryffindor saw Draco flinch and open his mouth, searching for an answer.

"I... I didn't have any choice," he murmured finally.

Harry looked at him interrogatively. "Why not?"

Draco shook his head and looked at Harry tiredly.

"How could I have paid you, otherwise?"

"You could have chosen not to pay me at all," Harry suggested, shrugging.

"And then? Having a life-time debt with you?" Draco retorted angrily, raising an eyebrow. "Being your -" he looked away, " - your fucking slave for two months is bad enough, but spending the rest of my life knowing that I have to thank Harry Potter for my freedom is more than unbearable. So, no matter how I look at this, I see only one possible choice. They say the stronger the pain is, the quicker it’ll go away." Draco finished bitterly.

Harry looked at him blankly for a while.

"Are you suffering, Draco?" he asked, and his voice was colder than the rain that had soaked the Slytherin, making him shiver. "Are you suffering? Do you really feel humiliated and helpless? Are you afraid, Draco?" Harry continued, his eyes digging holes into Draco's skin, his icy voice freezing him.

"Harry... I..." he tried, unable to understand what was going on, why the other had suddenly become so dangerous.

The Gryffindor took a step towards him, and another, his expression empty but his green gaze burning like a cold flame.

"Draco," he said, his voice suddenly dangerously smooth and low, his warm breath caressing softly the skin of Draco's cheek, "Are you afraid of me?" Harry asked while his fingers found their way through the wet platinum locks.

Harry caressed Draco's hair for a while, waiting for an answer, while the pale man shivered uncontrollably under that touch.

Why am I trembling? Am I afraid of Harry? Is this the truth? He wondered, blinking, unable to tear his gaze from Harry's green eyes. What is he doing? Why the hell have I accepted this... this thing? He thought before the Gryffindor's fingers suddenly closed on his hair and pulled painfully.

Draco flinched tilting his head following Harry's movement.

"Har..." he tried, confused, but suddenly stopped, noticing an amused smirk on Harry lips.

What the hell?? Draco could think before Harry pulled again, causing him to close his grey eyes, now prickling for the burning pain.

"Open your eyes," Harry said softly, but his hand was still clutching his hair.

Draco obeyed and found Harry's face few inches away from his, the raven-haired man lips on his lips.

"Does it hurt?" Harry asked, his lips barely brushing against Draco's mouth.

Draco would have nodded, but in his position it was impossible. He saw Harry frowning at the lack of answer and then he felt his hair being pulled roughly once more. He almost cried in pain.

"Does it hurt?" Harry asked again, softly, his lips still on Draco's.

"Yes..." the fair-haired man admitted in a whisper.

Harry smirked.

"Good," he said and finally let him go.

Draco instinctively stepped back, wrapping his arms around himself.

"Next time, don't talk about things you don't know," Harry said darkly. "That was pain," he continued. "And this -" Harry added, pointing at the fair-haired man, "- this is fear. Do you want things to this sick between us? Because I don't."

Draco said nothing, but looked at Harry cautiously, trying to understand the meaning of those words.

"We have an agreement, Draco. You accepted it for your own reasons. Now, live with it peacefully, because, you know, two months are long. But they could seem infinitively longer, and even if I don't want to, I could find myself being forced to make them feel painfully longer," Harry said firmly.

Draco narrowed his eyes, but eventually he nodded slowly. Harry allowed a little warm smile to creep on his lips.

"Very well. Now that you know how things could go, you will agree with me that it's useless to complain any further about your situation, right? I don't know what happened to you, but hey, life goes on and all that shit... Set aside your pride for a while, Draco. Set aside your hate for me. You're supposed to be working here. Think about it this way and you'll see that it will be easier," Harry said moving again towards Draco.

The fair-haired man tensed in anticipation, expecting everything but the simple and gentle touch of Harry's fingers on his face.

"Relax," the Gryffindor said. He noticed Draco flinching under his caress.

"I'm not going to hurt you again, and I don't want to see this fearful look. You remind me of a chased dragon," he said softly, almost playfully.

Draco tried to relax under that unexpected gentle touch, but a sudden shiver made his body tremble.

"Now, I think it's time for you to take a shower, otherwise you'll catch a cold," Harry stated, smiling softly. "Come, I'll show you the bathroom."

Draco nodded and followed him, trying hard to ignore the unanswered questions that haunted his mind.

As the bathroom filled with steam, Draco undressed slowly, dropping his wet clothes on the floor. Then, he stepped under the warm water and stood still for a while, letting his thoughts run free, as the drops on his white skin.

Where the hell has the Hogwarts' Golden Boy gone to? He thought. This isn't Harry Fucking Potter, this is a... another person. He's changed. Draco thought. Well, just like me, he considered tiredly.

Now, how am I supposed to survive two months with him? In seven years full of hatred, he had never been so... *harsh*. Wait. Am I *really* beginning to be afraid?

Draco couldn't find a simple answer to this question. Everything went back to the 'he's changed' line, and this filled Draco's chest with an uncomfortable feeling that he couldn't understand. He was still wrapped in his thoughts, when he suddenly felt another strange sensation. He blinked and passed a hand on the glass, wiping out the steam.

Draco blinked again and froze. Harry was there, calmly looking at him.

Looking at me while I'm taking a fucking shower! Draco considered angrily. But eventually he shook his head and reached for the shampoo. He washed his hair and finished his shower, trying hard to ignore Harry's amused gaze caressing his skin.

Finally Draco sighed and shut off the water. He stepped out of the shower and stayed there, naked and dripping water on the floor, but looking at Harry defiantly.

Let's go back to the dear old axioms: I'm Draco Malfoy, he's Harry Potter. We hate each other religiously. And the fact that we're going to shag for two months it's only a confirmation of how far we can go in order to hurt each other.

"Can I have a towel?" Draco asked coldly after a while.

Harry nodded, still smiling and handed him a white towel. Draco stretched out his hand to take it, but Harry drew it back. The fair-haired man raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you didn't want me to catch a cold," he stated flatly, shivering as the room began to cool down.

"I didn't," Harry said, moving towards him. He gently passed the soft towel on Draco's face, drying the soft skin, then down, until he was able to wrap it loosely around the slender waist.

Draco stood still under each of Harry's careful movements. But when Harry placed his mouth on the sensitive spot between his neck and his collarbone, licking away some drops of water and sucking gently his skin, Draco couldn't help but moan in response.

Harry went on licking and sucking slowly. Draco closed his eyes, trying to resist the urge of reacting. Finally he felt Harry's lips on his ear.

"Draco... did I hurt you too much?" he asked softly, in a voice that seemed almost sorry, teasing the sensitive skin with his warm breath.

The Slytherin opened his eyes wide, shivering uncontrollably. And then, suddenly, Harry wrapped his arms around him, caressing his naked shoulders.

"Harry..."

"Shh... You're freezing," Harry said, kissing his neck and shoulders.

Finally, he parted from Draco and placed a hand under the his chin, gently forcing the fair-haired man to look up.

"Better?" Harry asked, his green eyes concerned.

Draco looked at him puzzled.

"Harry this..."

This is sick. Stop playing this game. Stop playing with *me*. Please.

Draco smacked himself mentally for being so weak and uncomfortably shifted his gaze to the floor.

I can handle this. I've handled worse stuff than a lustful schizophrenic Harry Potter. Working. I'm only working. He reminded himself, coldly. Now let's get done with this. He sighed imperceptibly and looked again at Harry, shielding his inner turmoil.

"This isn't the most comfortable place," he went on in a very suggestive and sexy voice. "Maybe we should go somewhere else," he suggested allusively.

Harry raised an eyebrow and nodded, leading Draco towards his bedroom.

On with the show... Draco thought bitterly as his hands began to undress Harry.

Soon they were both naked, the clothes and the towel abandoned on the floor. Draco felt Harry's hands running all over his skin, making him shiver in tension and... Pleasure... He admitted finally while he reached Harry's cock and began to stroke it teasingly.

The dark-haired wizard moaned and Draco pushed him down on the bed, lying at his side, his skilled white hand on his sex, touching, enveloping, caressing.

Harry let himself go. You're *really* good Draco, he thought for a while before other waves of pleasure overwhelmed him.

Draco's mouth was on his cock, licking gently and teasingly, and then, suddenly, sucking. Harry moaned, enjoying that hot wet sensation that was surrounding him.

He let Draco continue his game until he felt he was dangerously near his climax. He suddenly pushed Draco away and rolled over him, pinning him down. Harry focused on Draco's grey gaze, searching for something unknown that the Boy-Who-Lived instinctively had sensed in those storming depths.

Harry was still wondering about that strange feeling, when the fair-haired man reached for his glasses and put them on the bedside table, making his world suddenly became a blur, a dream in which Harry would have lost himself if it weren't for that heat under himself, that skin burning against his own skin.

Harry's mouth reached Draco's neck, kissing, licking and biting softly, until the slender shape crushed under his body began to squirm instinctively. Harry placed his hand on Draco's cock, stroking him firmly, making the fair-haired man moan while he caught a pink nipple and sucked on it slowly.

Finally he stopped and looked at Draco, who was panting slightly.

"Draco." Harry called.

The fair-haired man looked at him interrogatively. Harry moved a hand, reaching the silky platinum locks and brushing them away from Draco's grey gaze.

"I don't want to hurt you," Harry said suddenly, unable to understand the sudden urge to say those words.

Draco looked at him for a long while, but with or without glasses, Harry couldn't read the expression of the Slytherin. Finally, the dark-haired wizard opened his mouth, still unsure of what he was going to say, but Draco prevented him, placing a slender finger on his lips.

"You don't have to say anything. You don't have to explain anything," he said, his tone unreadable as his expression.

Harry blinked.

"But..." he tried to answer. Without even knowing the reason, at that moment, it seemed to be a matter of life and death to say something, anything.

Now, why am I thinking that everything had begun in the worse way? Why am I feeling the need to say I'm sorry? What's happening to me? Harry looked again at Draco. What am I doing to him? And *why*?

But suddenly, the Slytherin moved under Harry, grabbing his fingers, taking them to his soft mouth and beginning to suck them slowly. Eventually Harry stopped arguing with himself and, letting the pleasure and the excitement take the lead, he pushed his wet fingers inside Draco.

This latter closed his eyes, tensing. Harry stopped, waiting for the body under him to get used to the intrusion. When Draco was finally relaxed enough, Harry began to move slowly inside him, preparing him until the fair-haired man began to moan.

Harry slid his fingers out of Draco's tightness and then with a single smooth movement, he entered inside him. Warmness surrounded him.

Harry let out a strangle moan, when he began to thrust inside that intoxicating tightness and, after a while, he reached Draco's shaft, stroking it in time with his own thrusts. Harry heard Draco, moaning and calling his name. The pleas only served to push him dangerously closer to the edge.

"Draco," Harry whispered, thrusting and stroking again, and again until Draco cried softly and arched his back giving in to a dark hot pleasure. Harry gasped at that sudden movement and pushed one last time before melting completely and joining Draco, wherever he had gone.

Go to next part.

people have been to this page since August 18, 2002.  
Part 6: Sleepy  
Tender is the night  
Lying by your side  
Tender is the touch  
Of someone that you love too much  
Tender is the day  
The demons go away  
Lord I need to find  
Someone who can heal my mind

"Tender", Blur

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. He could sense Draco’s presence next to his body. The Slytherin was laying down, motionless on the bed. After a while, Harry opened his eyes again and focused his green gaze on the ceiling. 

Draco, the dark-haired wizard thought, what's happening to me? I hate you. But... Damn. The problem is that I don't understand why I feel so confused. There's no reason why I should feel this way. Right?

Harry looked at Draco. He couldn't tell if the blonde was really asleep so, without moving, Harry let his eyes run lazily over the pale body, studying the slender shape, the milky smooth skin and the platinum hair spread on the pillow, shining in the dim light like rays of moon. Suddenly, he felt his head spin and a strange feeling at the pit of his stomach.

Right?

Harry frowned, trying hard to agree with the part of himself that said that nothing was happening. But it was useless.

Why the hell did I take you here?

Harry finally snapped, angrily pulling up and forcing himself to look somewhere else.

"Draco," he called coldly. "Draco wake up."

The fair-haired man turned towards him, and looked at him interrogatively, but fully awake. Harry stared at him blankly for a long while.

What's the matter with me? It's just Draco. A good shag. Period, the dark-haired wizard reasoned, ignoring a flicker in his chest and focusing to maintain his voice detached when he spoke again.

"You can go to your room now," he said, curtly.

Draco got up and reached for the towel that was resting on the floor. He wrapped it loosely around his waist and moved towards the door. But before exiting, he stopped.

"Did I disappoint you?" Draco asked flatly, without turning.

Harry flinched, but when Draco turned to look at him, he had regained his cold composure.

"Why are you asking?" he questioned, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

Draco simply shook his head.

"I really don't know," the he answered, grimacing.

Harry smirked.

"No, I'm not disappointed. Actually, I had quite a good time, but I prefer to sleep alone, Draco."

"Very well," the he stated, tiredly and, without looking at Harry a second time, he left.

The dark-haired wizard sighed in relief when the door closed with a soft click. He had the sensation that if Draco had stayed a moment longer, he would have asked him to stay.

Harry shook his head and, ordering himself to sleep, lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. 

Oh, did I disappoint you, Harry? Could you ever forgive me? I don't deserve your kindness but perhaps a quick shag could make things easier, couldn't it? Draco thought, angrily. Maybe I'm developing a masochistic side. No, it can't be. *That* happened the very fucking moment I accepted to come here, he pondered, sarcastically.

Damn! Where are the bloody fags?

Draco went back to his room, while these considerations kept swirling in his head. He cursed softly, while putting on a pair of faded jeans and a sweater. Finally, he opened the glass door and went to the terrace. Draco pulled out a cigarette and lightened it. He tried hard not to think. The cold air of the night made him shiver. The Slytherin took another drag and wrapped his arms around his body.

Harry Potter. Who are you? The one who cares or the one who hurts? I wonder what happened to you. And I insane to even care about these changes you went through. Damn. Draco thought, shivering again. He looked up at the sky where now he could see the stars. Silver drops on deep blue velvet. And all around the silence of a winter night.

Harry...

"Harry."

A voice. Who's calling me? It's so dark here.

"Harry."

Again. I'm drowning in this darkness.

"Where are you?"

"It has been a long time, Harry."

"Who are you? I don't think I know you."

"No, you don't remember me. But you do know me."

"Where are you? I can't... I can't see you. It's too dark here."

"Maybe you don't want to see."

Sad. This voice is so sad. I feel he's going away.

"Wait! I want to see!"

Light. Strong white light. It hurts my eyes. For a moment I'm blind in the complete brightness. But now, I can make out some black figures. They're coming closer. Black hooded figures. They're...

Death Eaters.

All around me. I see them raising their wands, pointing them at my heart.

"Avada Ke..."

"No!"

"Open you eyes, Harry."

Draco had lost the track of time just like he had lost himself amidst the stars and his thoughts. When he finally came back to reality, he was freezing. Glancing at his watch, he noticed that he had been out there for two hours. Draco entered his room and closed the glass door. He sighed and began to undress, taking off his sweater.

Then, suddenly, a scream. An afraid and pained scream.

Harry. It was Draco's last thought before rushing to Harry's room.

The Gryffindor was moving convulsively under the sheets. When Draco reached his side, Harry jerked his head back while a strangled cry left his lips. Draco grabbed his shoulders and shook him lightly.

"Harry. Harry, wake up," he said.

The dark-haired wizard was struggling against the Death Eaters, who plagued him in his dream.

"Open your eyes, Harry," Draco tried again.

And as he finished saying it, an upset green gaze answered him. Harry was panting slightly, frowning while trying to focus on the man at his side.

"Draco," the Gryffindor said, his voice cracking. Harry blinked and covered his eyes with his hands. "Oh my God," he whispered.

Suddenly Draco's cold fingers were on his hands, taking them in his own.

"Shh... It was just a nightmare," he said softly. 

"Come here," he added almost automatically, and pulled Harry in a gentle embrace.

It lasted only awhile and as they parted, Draco made him lie down. Harry closed his eyes and the Slytherin brushed away the dark locks from his sweated forehead and traced the pale scar with his fingers.

He felt the other man shiver under that touch and he stopped.

"Try to sleep now," Draco said, getting up.

"Wait," Harry whispered. "Stay. Please, stay." And without opening his eyes, he caught Draco's hand in his and interlaced their fingers.

Draco frowned, but eventually he gave up and lay down.

"Are you a Death Eater?" Harry asked suddenly, his voice distant, as if he was falling asleep.

"Haven't you seen every inch of my skin yet?" the Slytherin questioned.

"I want to hear it from you," Harry said softly.

Draco sighed.

"No, I'm not," he answered finally.

"Why?"

"Why?" Draco was angry, but it wouldn’t do to show his resentment. "Why haven't I become a Death-Eater? Why should I have? That’s the real question, Harry. Just because everyone expected me to be the worthy son of my father?" he asked bitterly.

Harry said nothing for a while; Draco stared at the ceiling.

You disappointed me, Draco.

As you disappointed me, Father.

Draco closed his eyes, pushing aside his memories, but Harry insisted.

"Tell me," the Gryffindor whispered, suddenly "Tell me your story, Draco."

"I thought you had figured out by now. At the end of the seventh year, I went back home. My father called me and told me about my initiation. I refused. He disinherited me. I left home and the wizard world with my wand and the clothes I had on. No money. But I needed it. And so when I met Matt I accepted his offer. I would have accepted anything. And I accepted everything. Even you." Draco drawled tiredly, sleep suddenly enveloping him.

"Why did you stand up to your father?" Harry asked, his voice sleepy.

"Would you believe me if you told you that I don't know? I know and I knew back then that I had a good reason. I've just never figured out what it is," Draco said, smirking.

"You could have used magic in the muggle world to survive," Harry pointed out, rolling on his side and nearer to Draco.

"Yeah. I suppose I could have. But I didn't want to. Since I left home, I haven’t used my wand once. I... I had this feeling that it was wrong. Magic was wrong. My father and magic, in general, are the reason that my life has been so messed up. And there's something else -" Draco curled, unconsciously getting closer to Harry's warmth. "- But I don't remember."

"I dreamed of Death Eaters. It was dark. And there was somebody. Somebody I knew, but that I forgot," Harry said. "Draco?"

"Mmm?"

"Could you do that again?"

"What?"

"Embrace me."

Draco frowned, but eventually, he shifted, wrapping his arm around Harry's body. The Gryffindor moved against Draco's body and placed his head on the pale slender chest, his dark locks contrasting with the milky skin. Harry let go a satisfied sigh and Draco smiled softly, unseen, while reaching the black hair with his hand and raking his fingers, lazily, through the raven locks.

"Draco."

"Mmm?"

"Tomorrow... Tomorrow, everything will go on as usual."

The fair-haired man's face darkened, but he said nothing.

"This will have never happened," Harry went on tiredly.

"I know," Draco whispered.

They stayed silent for a while, until Harry spoke again, one last time.

"But, tonight is perfect," he said, his voice sleepy, but soft.

Draco didn't answer. He felt Harry's breath become regular against his skin. Then, he looked down at the dark-haired wizard and for the first time that day no thoughts were haunting his mind. At that moment, lying on that bed, with Harry laying completely unguarded in his arms, Draco allowed himself not to care about what would happen the next day.

For that instant, he felt happy.

"Perfect," he unconsciously murmured. After a while, he drifted off to sleep.

Go to next part.

people have been to this page since August 18, 2002.  
Part 7: Absurd  
he'll look at me and smile  
I'll understand  
and in a little while  
he'll take my hand  
and though it seems absurd  
I know we both won't say a word

"The Man I Love", Gershwin Bros.

When Draco woke up, the next morning, the bed was empty and cold. Unconsciously, he touched his chest, remembering the feeling of Harry resting on his body, his warmness, but thinking about it made him shiver helplessly.

Draco got up from the bed and began to wander around the flat.

"Harry?" he called, but he received no answer.

He shrugged and entered the kitchen where he found some hot coffee. He poured some of it in a cup and drank it slowly, grimacing at the bitter taste on his tongue.

It's morning. Don't think about it. Today is *tomorrow*. Don't think about it!

But he was thinking about it. He couldn't help but think about it. He was here, in Harry's house. Draco knew that soon his so-called boyfriend. would come back and he would be forced to remember how perfect the night before had been. He would look at Harry, listen to his voice and he would recall the night, the embrace, the silent abandonment.

But, then, everything will just go on as usual. It's better if I don't fucking think about it. Draco considered tiredly, placing the empty cup in the sink, where the mug disappeared, probably to clean and place itself back in the cupboard.

He smirked. This place is too tidy for the Messy Harry Potter, the Slytherin thought absently.

Draco went in the living room, searching for something he had spotted last evening: a piano. He wondered if Harry really played it or if it was a stylistic choice, to keep a black baby grand piano in there.

Slowly, he approached the instrument and settled on the seat. He lifted the top and removed the green fabric that covered the black and white keys. Steinway & Sons, he read the writing in gold letters. Wow. Draco considered raising an eyebrow, but there was no one around to impress. He placed the fabric on his knees and slightly touched the keys, without actually playing. They were cold and smooth.

Draco smiled softly, as memories of his childhood began to flow in his mind. It was his mother that made him learn how to play the piano, without his father knowing about his lessons. Lucius Malfoy would have dismissed it as useless knowledge and he would have forbidden Draco to play it. This would have been unbearable, because, almost immediately, he had found himself in love with those clear sounds and with the worlds they were able to create for him.

Draco was five when he first placed his fingers on the keyboard. He was eighteen when he had been forced to give it up. It had been painful, more than the loss of his parents or of his fortune. Leaving his piano meant giving up his way to escape reality. Every time he had been upset or simply sad during the interminable summers at Malfoy Manors, he would play and leave everything behind, flying to another world, which was created by each new sound.

Even when he was at Hogwarts, he couldn't stay away from that addiction. He loved it so much that he had swallowed his pride and asked Dumbledore, very politely, if there was the possibility to keep playing while in the school.

And there was. Everyday, for seven years, he had spent hours in a dusty hidden room, alone with an anonymous piano and his music. Alone because nobody knew apart from him and the Headmaster. But, it was perfect.

Now, after three years, Draco placed his slender fingers on the keys. He closed his eyes and recalled the years of study, dedication and love, the only love of his childhood. And then, in Harry's dining room and on Harry's piano, Draco let that feeling come back, surround him and lead him. His fingers moved. The music filled the room.

Perfect.

Harry stood still in front of the door of his flat. He could hear the sound of a piano coming from behind it. Cautiously, he entered and moved towards the music, stopping on the threshold of the living room.

Draco was playing. His hands ran over the keyboard with smooth precision. Harry stared at him, unobserved. His former rival had his eyes closed, lost in the experience. The Gryffindor noticed his posture, the way his platinum hair fell over his eyes, and how the features of his face were relaxed. 

Harry smiled softly and approached Draco. As the music dimmed, he placed a hand on the blonde’s shoulders. The last chord died around them. Harry and Draco stood still, in the silence, both strangely relaxed, as if they were used to this intimacy. Suddenly Harry spoke.

"Play it," he said, without knowing why.

And just unconsciously, Draco began to play again, a jazz interpretation of a simple melody.

"Someday, he'll come along, the man I love..." Harry murmured, his hands still on Draco's shoulders.

The Slytherin kept playing softly, improvising difficult passages or interpreting simple ones with perfect, sweet sounds. Finally, the music stopped and Draco turned towards Harry. They looked at each other for a while.

Someday, he'll come along. What's happening? The man I love...I've heard this before. I've seen this before. I lived this before.

Strangely, they were thinking the same thing. Pondering the same questions. Living the same feeling.

They looked at each other and a minute passed. Or maybe a century.

The magical moment was broken by the doorbell.

They both looked away, uncomfortably. Harry shook his head.

"It must be Claude."

Draco nodded, and while Harry went to open the door, he closed the piano, frowning.

What was that song? I've forgotten it, the blonde thought. And how did I know that it was the one Harry wanted?

Draco was still searching for an answer when Harry came back with a young short man.

"Claude, this is Draco. I told you what I wanted."

"Mmm... Nice to meet you Draco," the Muggle said, walking around the blonde, studying Draco's body.

"Nice to meet you," the young Malfoy answered politely, looking at Harry interrogatively.

"Claude is my tailor. I asked him to make you some suits. And Claude. I want the evening one ready for Friday," Harry said.

"Sure, Harry," the man said. Then, he turned towards Draco. "Could you please undress yourself?" he asked.

Draco blinked but he took away his shirt and his trousers.

"Very well," Claude said, beginning to take the necessary measurements. "Considering his pale complexion, I suggest a slate grey. Almost black but not really black, 'cause it would ruin his natural brightness. Maybe even a deep blue shade. What do you think?" he asked Harry.

"Yeah, it either would work. I just want him to be gorgeous and I trust your taste Claude," the Gryffindor said, smirking.

"Ce n'est pas difficile. I mean, with this body..." Claude pointed, smirking back at Harry, who chuckled slightly.

Draco blushed and looked away uncomfortably, remaining silent until the tailor had finished with his job he he could get dressed again. For a moment, Draco missed Madame Malkin's boutique, where all the measurements where taken magically, and with no need to stand half naked in front of a stranger.

When Claude informed them that he had everything he needed, Harry led the tailor to the door. When he came back, he found Draco sitting on the couch, with his hands resting on his eyes. Harry frowned.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Draco flinched slightly and looked up.

"Why do I need a suit for Friday night?" he questioned.

The Gryffindor smiled, amused.

"Oh, right. I didn't tell you, did I?" he said.

Draco looked at him puzzled. Harry sighed.

"I won an award, so we're going to attend the celebration. Unfortunately, it seems to be necessary," he explained.

"An award?" Draco asked.

The Gryffindor blinked.

"Yeah, an award," he repeated. Then, reading the confused look of Draco's face, he enquired, "Draco, who am I?"

"What does it mean 'who am I'?" Draco said, getting up angrily. "I could answer in so many different ways: Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived," he spat venomously.

He didn't like it. He didn't like at all the way Harry played with him. Now, this award. It meant hundreds people looking at him, knowing what happened to him behind closed doors, at the hand of the famous Harry Potter... It was more than humiliating.

It's *sick*. Draco couldn't stand it. He was fuming. And Harry was still waiting for an answer. Here is your answer.

"No, wait, I've got a better definition," the fair-haired man said grimacing. "Harry Fucking Potter, Boy-Who-Fucked... me. Do you like it?"

Harry didn't answer, but stared at him blankly. Instinctively, Draco took a step back.

"Draco," Harry said softly. "Do you know that I'm a writer?" he asked, coming closer.

The Slytherin stared at him, perceiving the apparent calm like the quiet before the storm.

"I have no private life now. Well, it's not as if I ever had one. But you know, sometimes I want to take a break. This is where you come in. Friday, in front of the world, you're going to be my boyfriend. People will be free to say all sort of nonsense about you and me and I will have two months of peace, without fans outside my door, and without my box mail being filled with sick love letters. Now, do you understand what I wanted from you when I asked you to live with me?" Harry asked, coming closer.

"Draco, you didn't believe I wanted you just for the sex, did you? The truth is that I wanted you because you're perfect for this part. You're beautiful. Well-mannered. Intelligent. And a good shag too, I admit it," he said smiling. "Just the boyfriend everybody expect me to have," he stated, coming even closer.

Draco moved back, till he had his back against the wall. He had stared at Harry during his explanation. Now that the Gryffindor was silent and standing right in front of him, he looked away, nervously.

"So, are you going to help me willingly, Draco? Or should I find an effective way to persuade you?" Harry asked calmly, placing a hand on the wall at Draco's side and leaning against him.

Draco didn't answer, but kept on looking away. Harry touched his chin lightly, forcing him to look at him. They stared at each other for a while. Harry could see himself reflected in those silver pools. He smiled softly and caressed Draco's cheek.

"You're trembling," the black-haired wizard stated after a while.

The blonde blinked.

"Are you still afraid of me?" Harry asked, but received no answer.

Draco was staring at him, his eyes wide opened. Amazing eyes, Harry reflected, but suddenly, he shook his head, pushing away that thought.

"I told you that you don't have to be afraid of me. I won't hurt you again," he explained. "Don't you believe me?" Harry asked, distractedly brushing his thumb on Draco's soft lips. Suddenly, he felt those inviting lips move under his touch.

"I believe you," Draco murmured.

"Good," Harry stated, nodding. "Now, I have to go out for a while. Do what you want," he said, moving towards the door.

"Harry," Draco called out, still leaning against the wall. Harry stopped and looked at him interrogatively.

"That piano... Do you play it?"

The dark-haired wizard shook his head. Then, he answered Draco's unspoken question.

"But I knew that someday, someone would come and play it."

Draco stared at him, speechless. And Harry smiled at him, just a little true smile before leaving.

Someone would come and play it.

Someone would come and play it.

Someone would come and play it.

Draco couldn’t stop thinking, slumping to the floor and covering his face with his hands, trying to stop his thoughts from swirling in his head, bringing him dangerously to the edge of sanity.

Go to next part.

people have been to this page since August 18, 2002.  
Part 8: Heaven & Hell  
are you locked up in you counting the days  
oh how long until you have your freedom  
your freedom

"Heaven Out Of Hell", Elisa.

"Draco, are you ready?" Harry called, quite nervously.

When the Slytherin didn't answer, the now-famous writer pondered the idea of breaking down the door. Fortunately it wasn't necessary, because, after a few instants, it swung open.

Harry forgot to breathe, his attention completely caught by the vision in front of him.

Draco Malfoy was simply amazing, and Harry doubted it was only merit of Claude's work. Needless to say, the suit was perfect, following graciously the perfect built of Draco’s body. But there was something else. It was the way Draco wore the suit. He seemed born to be dressed elegantly. He had a natural aura that said ‘I-am-as-close-to-God-as-any-man-will-ever-be-so-don’t-bother-trying-to-reach-my-level’.

Harry wondered if this was due to being a Malfoy or to endless childhood lessons on proper conduct for a pureblood. He knew, however, that he would never have that preternatural appearance, because no suit that could give him that powerful presence. The proof was the fact that Draco radiated the same intensity even when he wore his worn faded jeans.

The Gryffindor was still lost in his thoughts, his gaze unconsciously fixed on Draco, when his lover passed a hand through his hair nervously. Harry, instinctively, noted that the other wizard wasn’t using as much gel as he used to in school. In fact, the platinum locks fell gently on his flawless cheeks.

"So?" Draco asked after a while, shifting his weight between his feet, uncomfortably. "Is there anything wrong?"

Harry raised an eyebrow and smiled.

"Actually, there is something missing," he said, carefully pulling out something from a pocket of his jacket.

Draco looked curiously at two little white rosebuds resting on the dark-haired wizard's hand. Cautiously, Harry parted them and placed one into Draco's breast pocket. Then, he did the same with the other blossom. Draco moved closer, their bodies almost touching, and he straightened the rose and then smoothed the jacket with an elegant movement of his hand.

"All right?" The Gryffindor asked, finally, smiling and looking straight into Draco's eyes.

The Slytherin nodded and smiled back.

"Then, it's time to go." Harry stated. With that, they were off.

Harry was nervous. Draco could sense that the tension was getting worse with every passing minute. Finally, he broke the silence that filled the BMW and said softly, "You don't like this stuff very much, do you?"

Harry flinched, but kept looking at the road, while he answered.

"Yeah, you can say that. I've never got used to the fame. I doubt I ever will."

Draco pondered the answer for a while. Then, he ventured a question he had wanted to ask since he had met Harry in that club.

"Why do you live in the muggle world, Harry?"

"Why?"

"I mean, at first I thought it was a way to escape the fame you have in the wizard world, but, it seems that you can't really stay away from spotlights. So, why did you come here?"

"Do you remember what you said to me? About magic? Well, I didn’t get turned off by the magic as much as you did, but I too feel uncomfortable with it. Especially, because it reminds me of him."

"Him?" Draco questioned.

"Voldemort."

The mention of that name caused a long while of silence. Finally, Draco broke it again.

"But you destroyed him, didn't you?" he ventured again.

Harry barely nodded, his gaze wandering on the road in front of him.

"Yes, I did. But sometimes I think that in doing it I lost something. Something that once was deadly important. And now I'm still looking for it."

"What is it?" The Slytherin asked, softly.

Harry smiled bitterly, slightly shaking his head.

"Well, if you'll ever discover it, tell me, Draco. I'd like to know what it is..."

"Do you think he's arrived yet?" Ron asked nervously.

"I don't know," Hermione answered, looking around the crowd, hoping to spot the messy black-haired head.

"Maybe he won't come, " the red-haired man ventured.

Hermione gave him a meaningful glance.

"No, he said he would come, and I believe him. Moreover, he said it, he has a new boyfriend, so he has the support he needs. And as much he hates celebrations, he has to come today. Otherwise, his manager will skin him alive."

Ron laughed, shaking his head.

"I don't think that that would stop Harry. We're talking about Harry Potter. He stood against You-Know-Who."

"Voldemort, Ron. Damn, aren't you able to pronounce that stupid name yet? And anyway yes, he stood against the Dark Lord but, as funny it could seem, he really gets uncomfortable around a crowd," Hermione explained, nervously. "Let's hope his companion has the nerves of steel needed to calm him down," she said.

"Isn't that Harry?" Ron said after a while, frowning.

Hermione looked in the direction the red-haired man was pointing. She saw a tall dark-haired man moving quickly through the crown to reach his reserved place, in the front row of the theatre, where the winners were seated.

From her seat in the press box, she could clearly see Harry turning back to clutch the hand of a tall man and guiding him to the seat next to his own. Hermione swallowed hard, observing how the lights of the theatre made that blonde hair shine.

Blonde? Let's say platinum, the witch thought sarcastically, trying to fight an uncomfortable knot at the pit of her stomach. Turn. Come on, turn towards me, she ordered mentally.

There was no magic in her words, but someone in heaven had listened to her prayer 'cause after a while the fair-haired man turned to whisper something in Harry's ear, finally showing his face.

Pale, angular face, Hermione noticed catching her breath. Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, she admitted, yielding to the evidence before her eyes. And it was then that Hermione Granger, First Class Witch, affirmed journalist and beautiful woman, did something that made Ron's eyebrow disappear under his bang in surprise.

"Holy shit," she cursed under her breath, before desperately burying her upset face in her hands.

The celebration was going on smoothly. Various awards were called and handed out under flashes and applauses.

Draco was calm. Apart from the humiliation he was going to be subjected to, when it would be Harry's turn to receive the award, he found that this event was thousands times better than any Death Eaters’ council to which he had been forced to attend.

Harry, instead, was tensing more and more with every name that was called. Draco could see him, digging his fingers in the arms of his seat. The Slytherin sighed and then, suddenly, he took Harry's left hand in his own, squeezing it lightly. The black-haired man flinched and turned towards Draco, who smirked.

"Calm down or you'll have an heart attack before you get that stupid statuette," the blonde said sarcastically. "And it would upset me greatly, because I would have a lot of explaining to do."

Harry sighed, but eventually he relaxed under the warmth of Draco’s touch. When the Slytherin felt this renewed calm, he broke the contact, but Harry closed his own hand over Draco’s. The blond looked at him interrogatively, but the Gryffindor was stubbornly looking straight ahead.

They remained that way silently, holding hands until the emcee said, "And now for writers' category, we're glad to award our prize to one of the most appreciated artist of these years: Mr. Harry Potter!"

The theatre burst into cheers. Harry gave a nervous look to Draco, who nodded towards the stage.

"Come on, go get it," the fair-haired man said softly.

The Boy Who Lived got up and as he moved towards the emcee, the courage the sorting-hat had seen in him, his first day, at Hogwarts came out. When he reached the announcer on stage, Harry was perfectly calm and smiling. Draco, from his seat, shook his head in disbelief and smiled at that sudden change of attitude.

"Thank you," Harry said to the emcee, taking the statuette the man was handing him.

Then, when the applauses died down, he addressed to the audience.

"And thank you to everyone who is here tonight, witnessing one of the most important events of my life. I just hope you know what you're doing by giving me this award," he said, raising the statuette. The crowd laughed and Harry went on.

"I'll try to be worthy of it, for all of you and for the people that supported me until now. My special thanks go to Frank Lieb, my manager, who still manages to put up with me," Harry said, and then paused, waiting for the applause to stop.

"To Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley -" he said, searching and, finally finding the two familiar faces in the press box. He smiled at his friends and continued, "- who had been my friends since my childhood and who, despite everything we are gone through, still are the best friends I've ever had."

Harry paused, looking at Hermione and Ron, cheering with all the other people.

"And finally, I want to thank a special person, a man who has stood by me, hiding in the shadows, but who is here tonight to share this splendid moment," the Gryffindor said.

The audience held it collecting breath, waiting to learn the identity of this mystery man. Harry smiled, pleased, and stared at Draco, who sat, frozen in his seat. Harry almost laughed at the sight, but finally he managed to speak.

"This is for you, Draco," he said softly, and began to clap his hands.

This is for you, Draco. The Slytherin sighed. Wonderful. If people keep looking at me this way, I will disappear, he thought, but nevertheless, he managed to smile slightly and remain calm until the cheers and the hungry gazes dimmed.

He looked blankly at the stage, refusing to look at the crowd, until Harry came back sitting at his side. He looked at Harry and a smirk appeared on the Gryffindor's lips. Draco shook his head, helplessly.

"Harry Potter. You know that I hate you, don't you?" he said seriously.

Harry chuckled and nodded.

"Yes, I know. But it wouldn't be so funny if you didn't hate me, would it?" he answered back, his smile widening.

Draco simply shook his head and looked away, mentally preparing himself to face the rest of the evening.

I just need to *survive* the rest of the evening, he thought sarcastically.

"Hermione."

"Ron."

"Hermione."

"Ron."

"Hermione."

"Damn, Ron, what?" Hermione snapped, her eyes still glued to the back of Draco's head.

"Hermione -" Ron said again, but, after the glare he received, he decided to go on quickly before his friend could find appealing to unleash her anger on him. "- I didn't see what I think I saw, right?"

"Right. Maybe you didn't see it," Hermione conceded, folding her arms on her chest. "But you surely heard what Harry said."

"Oh, no!" Ron said, taking his head between his hands and shaking it helplessly. "No. No. No. It's a nightmare. It must be a bloody nightmare."

"Yeah. The worst nightmare of my life," Hermione agreed.

"And I should have seen it coming," she added under her breath in frustration. "Damn!"

"Harry."

The Boy Who Lived knew that voice. He also knew that tone, the one he had heard only when the N.E.W.T.s or the O.W.L.s where dangerously near and he hadn't still begun studying for them. So, when he turned, he expected to face a very upset Hermione. And since where the witch was, you could bet to find Ron, Harry wasn't too surprised to find a furious Ron at her side.

"Hermione, Ron," he said, smiling despite the atmosphere. "Hi, guys. I've seen you had nice seats..." Harry began, but Ron cut off angrily.

"Enough. I don’t want to chit chat with you, Harry. Where is he?" the red-haired man growled.

"Mr. Weasley, I suppose you're looking for me, are you not?" 

A drawl interrupted the confrontation between Harry and Ron. The redhead turned quickly towards the source of those words, still unable to believe what he was seeing. He blinked, before narrowing his eyes and clenching his fists. In front of him and at Harry’s side there was him. Draco Bloody Malfoy, Ron thought.

Draco ignored the murderous look Weasel - because it was still Weasel in his head - was giving him and, smiling politely, he held out his hand.

"Nice to meet you again," he said.

Ron stared, showing his disgust, at the pale slender hand that his enemy was offering him, as if it was a spider of considerable size. Draco raised an eyebrow, looking at him interrogatively.

"Is there anything wrong?" he asked after a while.

Ron frowned and suddenly hit Draco's hand. The blonde narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

"You're wrong, Malfoy. You're completely and definitively wrong. What the hell did you believe to prove with this?" the red-haired man spat out angrily.

Draco looked at him calmly composed and, without tearing his silver gaze from Ron's burning eyes, he spoke to Harry.

"Harry... Maybe it would be better for everybody if I wait for you outside," he murmured.

"Yeah. Sod off, Malfoy," Ron said, smiling nastily.

"No, I don't think you should go, Draco," Harry said finally, placing a hand on Draco shoulder. "Right, Herm?"

Hermione frowned, studying Draco's unreadable expression. But eventually, considering Harry's pleading smile, she nodded slowly. Draco titled his head on one side and looked at her.

"Miss Granger. How rude of me," he said, cautiously holding out his hand for her.

Ron's eyes went wide as Hermione took it tentatively. He was ready to kill Ferret boy – as he liked to call the blonde - when Draco slowly raised it, slightly brushing his lips on her hand, his eyes locked with the witch's.

"Malfoy!" Ron growled, but the other didn't pay attention to the redhead.

"Nice to meet you here, Miss Granger," he said, still addressing Hermione. He shifted his cold gaze to Ron for a while and then he looked back at witch.

"It's Miss, am I right?" he asked politely, smirking as the red-haired man opened his mouth in surprise.

Hermione smiled back, preventing a nasty answer from Ron, her eyes still studying attentively their schoolmate.

"Yes, you're right, Malfoy," she said. "What about you? Are you get on fine with Harry?" she asked, looking straight into those silver pools.

"Just fine, thank you," he answered, his gaze unreadable.

"If you don't mind my saying so, Harry," Ron began, trembling in rage and looking at Draco defiantly, "How come that a Death Eater falls in love with Harry Potter? I thought that fags weren't allowed in the Dark Side ranks," he spat out.

"Ron," Hermione and Harry said, practically together and with the same tired tone.

But Draco raised a hand and waved it dismissively.

"It's ok, Harry," he said before addressing to Ron. "You know, Mr. Weasley, when people love they use their souls. And souls know no gender nor alliances," Draco explained calmly.

Ron, Hermione and even Harry were staring at him bewildered. Draco took that opportunity to ask Harry to leave.

"Do you mind if we go now, Harry? I'm a bit tired and I think you are too. It has been an eventful evening, " he said, smiling softly.

Harry nodded, still too flabbergasted to argue.

"Yeah, we’d better go. See you soon guys," he managed to say.

"Goodbye Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley," Draco said, before following Harry.

Ron and Hermione stared speechless, until the two former rivals disappeared among the crowd. Their best friend didn't notice anything of this, because his mind was stuck on a single thought.

When people love they use their souls. And souls know no gender nor alliances.

When people love.

Did you mean it, Draco?

Go to next part.

people have been to this page since August 18, 2002.  
Part 9: Blow  
Nothing really matters,  
Anyone can see,  
Nothing really matters, nothing really matters to me,

Any way the wind blows....

"Bohemian Rapsody", Queen

Draco was on the terrace again. When they had returned from the award, Harry had gone to change his clothes and, when he went looking for his lover, he found the glass door of the living room open and the cold wind blowing sharply through it. He shivered, but went out nevertheless.

Draco was leaning against the railing, smoking and looking down at the city's lights.

Harry stood still for a while, observing how that pale shape cut the night, how the few light shone on his hair, tousled by the wind.

"Draco?"

The Slytherin turned around to stare at the other wizard. Harry looked at him, while he took a drag from his cigarette, his pale lips slightly closing on the filter. The smoke was quickly carried away by the wind.

And suddenly few words came out.

"Did you mean it?"

Draco pondered Harry's question for a while. Then, he answered the only way he could, the only way he would allow himself to answer.

"Of course I didn't."

Both men looked each other for a while, both believing the words. The lie. Because it was easier.

"Of course you didn't," Harry agreed softly, even if he didn't feel like doing so. He had unconsciously hoped, just for a few moments, that Draco wasn't such a good actor, "But you did a good work."

"Do you think?" Draco said, turning again towards the railing. Harry reached him.

"Yeah, I do," Harry said.

"Well, I'm paid for it," the blond stated, almost sadly, but Harry didn't notice, 'cause the wind made those words disappear a little too quickly.

Draco finished his cigarette and turned to face his rival, who was standing at his side for a while, studying him, trying to understand what was that feeling growing painfully inside his chest.

Stop it.

And it stopped, allowing Draco to smirk. Harry looked at him interrogatively.

"And for this," the Slytherin added, coming closer to Harry, touching his cheek with a cold finger.

Harry shivered and Draco moved even closer. When their bodies were flushed together, he placed his lips on the Gryffindor's neck, trailing warm kisses on the cold skin.

Harry quivered again and unconsciously raked his fingers through Draco's hair. The blond continued to grace Harry’s neck with languid kisses. Each touch of his lips was soft and intimate, showing its own form of adoration. Suddenly, he stopped.

The Harry’s fingers kept moving lazily through his hair. Draco looked up and the two locked gazes.

A moment or an eternity. Then, it happened.

Harry leaned slowly towards the blond and placed his lips on the other's. Draco's eyes went wide in shock. He opened his mouth trying to say something, anything.

This is wrong, both thought. Why does it feel so right?

Harry's tongue slipped past Draco's lips, gently violating the sweet warmness of that mouth. His fingers ran through the blonde locks, then down, slowly caressing Draco's neck and shoulders.

Draco trembled under the tender assault, but he would not let the Boy Who Lived win this battle. Tentatively, he sought Harry's tongue. Then, he became more daring, caressing and teasing it with his own. The temperature might have been close to the freezing mark, but the two wizards were burning from the fire of their first kiss. Eventually, Draco drew back, leaving a confused Harry to look at him interrogatively.

"Don't," Draco said, trying to explain. "Please, don't do this again. Harry, I…" He tried again, but he seemed unable to form the right words. He raised his hand and touched his lips, as if, with that simple gesture, he could make them stop from longing for that warmness they had experienced a while ago.

"Don't what, Draco? You don't have many problems when I fuck you. So why don’t you want me to kiss you?" Harry asked, angrily.

"You don't understand. Harry, I…" Before he could say anymore, Harry cut him off.

"You, what?" Harry growled.

"I could believe you mean it," Draco said, finally, his voice distant, dreamy.

Did you mean it? Did I mean it?

There were the same simple questions swirling in their minds. But there weren't simple answers to them. Lost in their thoughts, Harry and Draco went to sleep, without adding a single word on the subject.

Draco lay awake on his bed all the night, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think about Harry's lips, about that warmness and that 'everything-is-perfectly-fine' feeling. Something he didn't remember of ever having experienced.

He caught me off guard. Shit. Don't think about it!

At five o'clock, Draco finally got up and took a shower, hoping that his thoughts could be washed away under the warm water that caressed his skin. 

An hour later, the Slytherin was dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a green jersey. He went into the kitchen to fetch a cup of coffee. Each movement he made was automatic and detached. He refused to think at the moment, since his brain appeared to be unable to focus on anything but the ‘kissing incident’. And all thoughts related to it were warm and longing. That wouldn’t do at all. He needed to use all his upbringing to remember that Malfoys didn’t do warm. Malfoys were cold detached and bloody realistic. He knew that it was a mistake. A sodding mistake that would not happen again. Never ever again. Otherwise...

Otherwise *what*? He wondered angrily, sensing that his thoughts had trailed, once again, toward those mushy feelings.

He finished the cup of coffee and reached for his Marlboro. He went to the terrace. He knew that, no matter how hard he was trying, he could not regain a dignity that simply wasn't there anymore. Draco sighed and took a drag of smoke.

What should I actually admit? That I'm beginning to *feel*? To feel for *Harry*? It's sick. It should be sick. So why am I even considering it?

Draco had thousand of questions in his mind, but could not find a single answer. Or, at least, no direct answer, but just a feeling that was springing from inside, giving him little innuendos of a bigger truth that the Slytherin still wasn't ready to accept. Because of his pride. And because of his fears.

"How long until I can get my arse out of here?" Draco thought aloud. Then, realizing that he was talking to nobody, he laughed, sadly. Desperately.

"How long before I'll finally lose my mind?" he whispered.

And the silence of dawn was the only answer he got.

It was half past ten when the doorbell began to ring madly. Draco flinched, not expecting that noise in the quietness of the morning. Harry hadn't come out of his room yet.

But probably, he‘ll wake up with all this racket, Draco realized, opening the door.

An uncomfortable silence followed. Ron and Hermione were scrutinizing the fair-haired man with different expressions, which went from 'then-we-weren't-dreaming-last-night' to 'you'd-better-begin-saying-your-prayers'.

It took Draco only a moment to find the proper way to face those inquiring two-thirds of the ‘Wonder-Trio’. He smiled tentatively and began to perform his little act.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley. What a wonderful surprise! Unfortunately, Harry is still in bed, but if you want to come -" Draco said, but as the word ‘bed’ left his mouth and sunk into Ron consciousness, the redhead cut him off, shoving him rudely aside and entering the flat as a rabid dog. "- in," the Slytherin concluded, sighing deeply before Ron began to shout.

"HARRY! GET.UP.YOU.LAZY.ARSE! You have a lot of explanations to give us and you're already LATE!" the redhead yelled angrily, his face reaching the same dangerous crimson tone of his hair.

Well, if he hadn't got up yet, he surely has *now*, Draco considered, shaking his head defeated.

After a while Harry appeared, wearing only his shorts and a grey t-shirt, his hair even messier than usual, if that were possible, and his glasses lying crooked on his nose.

"Ron," he began. "There's nothing so important that can't wait until I take a shower. Make yourself comfortable. I'll be back in a minute," Harry said, before disappearing again.

Draco blinked. Hermione shook her head. And Ron cursed, slumping heavily on the couch. After a while the witch joined him and Draco closed the door. They said nothing for a long while, until Ron asked what time it was.

"It should be half past ten, Ron," Hermione answered tiredly and Draco wondered how long she had been listening to the redhead’s complaints.

"I need something to drink. Anything," Ron said before looking at Draco, meaningfully.

"Right. What can I bring you?" The fair-haired man asked, calmly.

Ron shrugged, refusing to say anything else to the person who would always be, at least for him, the 'bloody ferret boy'.

"For you, Miss Granger?" Draco tried again.

"Coffee, black, no sugar, thank you," she said, smiling politely.

Draco disappeared in the kitchen. If he weren't been a true Malfoy, he would be cursing in the three languages he happened to know. Instead, he filled a glass with something that smelled like scotch for the 'Rabid Weasel' and poured some coffee for Granger.

Granger. Sadly, the only *normal* part in the bloody trio.

Draco went back to the living room. Once gotten his drink, Ron looked at it suspiciously. Hermione, on the other hand, began to sip calmly her coffee. The redhead frowned and finally decided to drink his scotch. In one go.

Draco would have looked at him amazed, but nothing could be considered strange when dealing with Weasel. Hermione, instead, glared at her friend, before turning towards Draco.

"Well, Malfoy. You look a bit tired. Didn't you sleep enough, last night?" she asked, while Ron looked at her bewildered.

Draco smirked.

"Actually, I didn't sleep at all. But the reason is not what Mr. Weasley is thinking at the moment."

Hermione sneered. She had to admit that Ron's expression was priceless. But the fun lasted only awhile.

"Fuck you, Malfoy. What do you think? We didn't come here to offer our congratulation to the sickest couple in the world."

Draco didn't bat an eye at that outburst and Hermione found herself admiring the cold composure of their former rival. The one he had always had and that had always unnerved Ron so much.

Ron will never learn, she considered rationally, his words can't hurt Malfoy.

"And if Harry is so blind to not see what filthy bastard you are, well, as his friends, is our duty to wake him up."

"I think you already managed to do that," Draco finally retorted, raising a delicate eyebrow defiantly.

Hermione shook her head helplessly. And Ron got up.

"You.Filthy.Bastard." The red-haired man growled.

"You already said that, Mr. Weasley," Draco calmly pointed out.

And at that Ron snapped, jumping towards him and grabbing the collar of his jersey. Draco didn't react and let the {other} shove him against the wall. Quite rudely too. Hermione noticed him, wincing and frowned.

"Ron, stop it," she said coldly, but her friend was too angry to pay attention to her words.

"I'm going to kill you, Malfoy. Just wait for me," Ron spat out.

"I'm not in the position to go anywhere, am I?" Draco wondered aloud, his tone calm and innocent, as if he was talking about the weather. But Ron's mood wasn't sunny, and just to underline this statement he raised his fist, ready to smash it on Draco's face.

"Enough," a voice said, and Ron, reluctantly, let go of his victim. Harry was standing next to Hermione, his eyes flashing with anger. Ron looked at him angrily as well and went back to sit on the couch. Draco instead, stayed where he was, waiting for Harry to say something. And he did indeed.

"Draco, what did I tell you?" he asked coldly. The Slytherin flinched and looked at him interrogatively. Hermione frowned.

"Harry, actually Ron was a bit upset," she began, not liking at all her friend’s gaze. It was something that she has never witnessed before and it was quite scary.

"It doesn't matter, Hermione," he said, not moving his burning green eyes from Draco. "He knew. Now I expect you to apologise for your behaviour, Draco."

Hermione looked at Harry, bewildered. Ron looked like ice-cold water had been dropped on him. His jaw fell slightly. Draco narrowed his eyes and looked at Harry, but the raven-haired man kept his gaze steady and folded his arms on his chest.

"Ron is waiting, Draco,"

Draco blinked, finally realizing that Harry wasn't exactly kidding. The atmosphere became dangerously tense. This is not happening, he thought panicking. But as much as he hated to admit it, the truth was that Harry was asking him to apologise. And he would have had to do it, sooner or later. Draco clenched his teeth for a while and then, trying as hard has he could to stay calm, he looked at Ron.

"I'm sorry," he said.

I'm *sorry*?

Hermione frowned. Draco Malfoy apologising to Ron Weasley. There's something *definitely* wrong here, she thought, letting her gaze wander between an amazed Ron, a satisfied Harry and an expressionless Draco. Finally, the blond moved.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked, almost softly.

"Cigarettes," Draco muttered, before disappearing.

Harry sat on the couch and smiled warmly at his friends. Ron was still in shock, so he addressed Hermione.

"So, Herm? What can I do for you?" He asked, still smiling.

The witch looked at him meaningfully for a while before smirking.

"What do you think about telling us the truth?"

Harry looked at her. He should have known better than to try to fool his friend. She had always been extremely perceptive. Then, he laughed.

"Well, that's definitively asking something, Herm," Harry stated, before finally starting his tale.

Sod off, Harry. JUST SOD OFF.

Draco reached the bathroom, shaking in rage. Once there, he turned the knob of the cold water and splashed his face. Not caring about the drops that ran down the collar of his jersey, he looked at his reflection in the mirror. He had a disgusted grimace on his lips and deep bags under his eyes, which were even clearer thanks to his deadly pale face.

I'm a mess, he stated tiredly.

He sighed deeply, trying to calm down, but it was useless. He was angry. He was hurt.

Harry humiliated me. And it *did* hurt me. This is the bloody truth. Now what? Does this make me weak? Does this make him powerful? Does he *know* what he's doing to me? NOT BLOODY LIKE LIKELY. Because if he knew. If he knew and *still* he wanted to do this...

Draco refused to think that. It was scary. It would mean that Harry Potter was a completely different person. The Golden Boy, the Brave Gryffindor was a well-disguised Slytherin bastard. Draco shook his head and smiled tiredly at himself. He dried his face and went searching for his cigarettes, before going back to the living room, where something was waiting for him.

"You're kidding."

"No, I'm not."

"Malfoy.Is.Your.Whore. Sorry, but I can't believe it! My brain doesn't allow me," Ron stated, laughing.

"Well, actually, if I think about it this way... Yes, I admit it's quite strange. But amazingly funny too," Harry stated.

Hermione kept looking, speechless, at her friends, while they went on and on about what was going on between Harry and Malfoy. They made it sound like a big joke.

I wanted the truth, but now I regret my wish. This is a bloody nightmare. And my *friends* are talking about it as they used to talk about Quidditch.

From Hermione's point of view, everything was just wrong. Malfoy had been a jerk. Maybe, he still was a jerk. 

But Harry is talking and behaving like an uncaring Death Eater! The worse thing is that he doesn't seem to understand it. He doesn't understand that he's playing with a *person*. Shit! Why didn't I see this coming? Why didn't I see him changing? I should have thought about possible *consequences*...

Her trail of thoughts was interrupted as some of Ron and Harry's words hit her brain.

"Are you saying that he's a good shag?" Ron asked, bewildered.

Harry nodded, smirking.

"Indeed. Actually the best shag of my life, till now," he stated.

"Glad to know it."

Ron, Harry and Hermione turned towards the cold voice. Draco was there, leaning on the doorframe, a cigarette stuck in his mouth and a blank expression on his face.

The first to recover was Ron.

"Well, Malfoy? Do you enjoy being Harry's whore?" he asked, nastily.

Draco didn't answer but kept staring at the wall, his grey eyes as glassy as dead.

It doesn't hurt. If you don't think about it, it doesn't hurt.

But the Slytherin's thoughts were cut off by Ron's voice.

"What? Cat got your tongue, Draco? Have you finally swallowed your pride or is your mouth to overworked to speak?"

"Ron!" Hermione cried out, shocked. The situation was simply unbearable. But again, Draco didn't answer. He simply turned and started to move, thinking about how many steps separated him from his room.

Or from the railing of the terrace.

"Running away?" Ron called, an amused tone in his voice, but the Slytherin wasn’t paying attention to him. Or better, he wouldn't have if Harry hadn't intervened.

"Draco. Exactly, where do you think you're going?" The Gryffindor asked, "Ron is talking to you. Stay."

"Harry!" Hermione called, indignation rising in her voice.

"What?" he snapped.

The witch blinked. Then, she narrowed her eyes and got up, trembling in rage, something that rarely happened.

"This is sick, Harry," she said articulating her words as if talking to a two years old child, "You're sick, Harry. And I can't believe I'm your friend. I'm best friend with a... a bastard!" She yelled.

Harry raised his eyebrows at the curse, while Ron frowned.

"Don't you see what you're doing? Now, Death Eaters had something to learn from you, Harry. For God sake, what the hell happened to you?" She said, fighting her tears, torn between her rage and her rational side, which told her that maybe she had something to do with that change.

Her friend stared at her blankly.

"Harry..." she said softly, trying hard to find her friend behind that empty gaze. Suddenly, those green eyes fixed on her, and their owner smiled.

"There's nothing wrong with me, Hermione. Well, maybe I've been a little harsh. But -" he managed to say before the witch cut him off.

"No, Harry. This isn't simple harshness. This is gratuitous nastiness. Hate. Darkness. Have you ever wondered where this come from?"

The Boy Who Lived flinched.

Darkness. What's this darkness inside me? Why do I feel like destroying everything? And why does destroying Draco feel *especially* good? Harry wondered. But before he could formulate an answer, Hermione interrupted his thoughts.

"I'm leaving. See you when your brain starts working again," she said, almost sadly. "And you, Ron. You're simply great. You have just acted like the bastard he used to be. The difference is that you are a little too old to be forgiven," she pointed out. Ron flinched and a guilty expression covered his face.

"Herm, wait!" He said, running after her.

In the living room, Harry and Draco were now alone. The only company was a terrifying silence.

Go to next part.

people have been to this page since August 18, 2002.  
Part 10: The Things You Say and The Things You Do  
Where were you when I was burned and broken  
While the days slipped by from my window watching  
Where were you when I was hurt and I was helpless  
Because the things you say and the things you do surround me

"Coming Back To Life", Pink Floyd

His fingers ran on that ivory skin. Harry leaned towards the body resting in his embrace, kissing softly every sensitive spot he had learned to remember so well, his skilled lips leaving a trail of warm pleasure behind them. 

Draco was shivering. Harry held him tighter, still subjecting him to his tender ministrations. His hands kept caressing the other, softly, almost lovingly, touching and brushing everywhere. Finally, Harry's fingers closed around Draco's throbbing member, making him jerk suddenly. Harry didn't let go. His arms closed possessively around his lover, while his hand kept caressing his cock softly, teasingly. He let his gaze travel lovingly over the man in his arms.

Draco lay defenceless under his lover’s touch. His amazing grey eyes were closed, his perfect lips slightly parted and Harry could feel his light breath teasing his skin. The Gryffindor smiled pleased at that sight, and shifted slightly against Draco's body. Suddenly his lips where on the Slytherin's cock.

Draco arched his back, barely holding back a moan, and allowed Harry's lips to brush over his member. Harry’s tongue licked him slowly, damping his sensitive skin, teasing him to the edge of pleasure. Finally, Harry took his lover's cock in his mouth completely.

A little sweet cry escaped Draco's lips and Harry stilled for a moment, his tongue warm and wet against the smooth skin. When he felt the blonde relax again, Harry began to lower his lips over the throbbing erection, slowly, painfully slowly. The Slytherin tensed, every fibre of his being focused on the intoxicating pleasure that was Harry's mouth.

The Gryffindor’s hands kept moving on Draco's flawless skin slowly, teasingly, caressing it sweetly. Harry was taking his own pleasure in mastering the slender body under his ministrations. And when his lover barely audible moans and slight squirming were taking him dangerously close to the edge, Harry gently pushed his fingers into Draco's mouth.

Draco sucked on them, just as Harry was sucking him. Eventually he stopped and the Gryffindor's skilled fingers began finding their way down, until they reached Draco's warm and tight entrance.

Slowly, Harry pushed against the muscle ring. His fingers moved in and out several times, while he distracted his lover with his wet movements on his cock. When he finally felt Draco relax completely against the intrusion, he stopped, and withdrawing from that intoxicating warmness, Harry's member began to work his way into his lover.

Draco tensed again, arching his back, involuntarily allowing Harry better access. But they had all the time in the world, and the black-haired man wanted to take it slowly. Leisurely, he pushed his way into Draco, sliding into him completely. He stood still for a while, with his lover pinned under his body, trailing wet kisses on his neck, playing with his platinum hair under his fingers.

Draco sighed, completely defenceless under that sweet assault. His eyes were still closed. Harry saw him frowning slightly as he began to move again inside him, without hurry, but enjoying every inch of heat and pleasure.

The Slytherin moaned slightly, jerking his head on one side, giving Harry the chance to bite his neck softly, to suck and lick his skin gently, while his hand reached Draco's cock, stroking it slowly but firmly with each thrust.

Moment after moment they both gave in, allowing the pleasure and the warmness to surround them until they were completely lost in each other. The only conscious thought was of melting helplessly, in a tight spiral of tangled white sheets and darkness, smell of sex and heat, excitement and lust, spinning quicker and quicker, until there was nothing left.

Nothing but Harry and Draco. And the moon outside the window, lightening their bodies trembling in post-orgasmic chills.

Harry was panting slightly and a strong dizziness was filling his head. He was conscious of the warm body moving at his side. He knew Draco was getting up. He knew that his love would dress without waiting to come down from the incredible sex, and without saying a word he would disappear.

Harry knew it. Because it had happened since that day, the day in which Harry had humiliated Draco in front of his friends. Since that moment, the Slytherin had become strangely quiet and amenable. More than two weeks had passed from the award night and the end of the first months was few days away. Harry knew he had to do something, because he couldn't stand Draco's silence anymore.

It was disarming and chilling. It made Harry regret his harshness. It made him feel wrong. And it was time to end it.

"Draco," he whispered. "Wait. Please."

Once, his father told him that there was a time for everything, but that there was never time enough for silence. 

And Draco, in nineteen years spent, trying with all his might to please the man he hated and loved, to be worthy of him, had learnt exactly what Lucius Malfoy meant with this. It was the essence of being 'a Malfoy'. It was the ability to hide all emotions from others, because silence wasn't the lack of words. Silence was the lack of feeling behind those words.

Now, it was time to put this knowledge into practice.

I allowed Harry to look into my bare soul. I don't know *why* I did it, but it hurts. And it's time to stop.

So, as living in an endless déjà-vu of his childhood, Draco began to act as if he was transparent, hiding his thoughts behind a light smile, talking, agreeing and shagging according to Harry's wills.

I've been my father's puppet for nineteen years. I can be the Golden Boy's puppet for two months. And under a strictly economical point of view, this could even be considered more satisfying.

Draco smiled bitterly inwardly at that cold calculating consideration as he opened for the 'god-knows-how-many-times' Harry's door. Then, he began his acting.

I will not let him win. I will not allow him to break me. He will never look into my true self again.

He seemed lost in his thoughts, while mechanically, he began to undress seductively, knowing exactly what would render Harry speechless. He really didn’t need to listen to the other wizard, least he break his resolve. When Harry's hands reached his skin, his mind had already escaped somewhere else, in order to keep itself safe from a growing and unbearable sense of desperation.

Since Ron and Hermione had left his living room, Harry had felt strangely sorry. Even if the witch hadn't pointed out so vehemently the wrongness of his actions, he knew that he had gratuitously humiliated Draco.

But I felt so good when I saw his hurt expression. Every time it's a bitter-sweet sensation that fills me. I want to break him. And then I want to heal him. Fuck him and kiss him. Hit him and hold him. Over and over again.

Shit. What's wrong with me?

I think he deserves what I do to him. But then, I think nobody deserve it, not even *him*. I'm tearing inside and still I don't know why. I'm doing this as if I had a reason. A reason that doesn’t *actually* exist.

Why do I react so strongly to him? Shouldn't I be indifferent? Just give him coldness and detachment, because we're nothing to each other, we were nothing and we never will?

But it seems I'm not able to do it. I *can't* do this. I can't simply ignore him. When I face him I hate him with passion. This isn't the indifference I'm expected to feel. And sometimes I wonder if... I mean, if I can hate him so badly why couldn't I...

Harry blinked, a sort of realization dawning. But he shut down his thoughts, because it was something unthinkable. Instead, he spent his days trying to avoid that unspoken question. And maybe he would have succeeded if Draco's strange behaviour hadn't begun to affect him.

All the rebellious passion, the hate and the plain disagreement had been drained from the Slytherin. He moved through the flat like a ghost, invisible most of the times, coming when Harry called him, disappearing when he wasn't needed. He was strangely silent, his usually large vocabulary suddenly reduced to: 'Yes, Harry,' or 'No, Harry,' with occasionally variations as 'Maybe', 'Ok', 'Sure'.

Harry began to observe him smoking more, eating less, reading a lot and playing the piano without passion.

He still managed to shag Harry breathless, but as soon as they were done, he disappeared quickly, leaving behind only a trail of silence and an empty bed. Harry found himself wondering about the sudden lack of satisfaction that Draco had been able to provide him before, when he was squirming against the pleasure Harry gave him, when they shagged with the same intensity they had when they had hated each other.

The Gryffindor couldn't tell why this change was affecting him so much. If he were honest with himself, he would acknowledge that in the beginning he had wanted Draco to behave that way. It was part of their agreement. It was repayment for all the insults he had received from the sharp-tongued Slytherin.

But at that time, he hadn't really considered Draco as a person, but his former rival was proving to be a source of questions, mysteries and very few answers. Harry had always been curious and the elusive personality of Draco Malfoy was proving to strong to resist. It made their strange relationship interesting, worth of being lived till the end, with all its flaws and all its oddity.

But now Draco has gone, leaving behind an empty body. What's changed?

He was still wondering, lying on his bed, when finally Draco joined him as requested. He entered Harry's room and began to undress himself, slowly, teasingly. At the sight, Harry put aside his thoughts for a while, mentally taking note of asking for explanations.

Later.

"Draco," he whispered. "Wait. Please."

Now was later. The sex had been wonderful. Harry had wanted it soft and sweet, unconsciously trying to feel his lover, to reach him. But Draco had been somewhere else, and Harry wanted to know where. The fair-haired man turned. He looked at Harry strangely. The Gryffindor thought he was facing a statue carved from ice: white, shiny, perfect. And cold.

"Yes, Harry?"

The Gryffindor flinched at Draco's chilling tone, but he went on nevertheless. The urge to make things rights was stronger than anything else.

"I just want to know," Harry admitted, "What's happening to you?"

Draco stared at him perfectly still. Eventually, he sighed and seemed to become human again.

"What's happening to me?" he wondered aloud. Then he focused on man lying on the bed in front of him. "Listen, Harry. You bought me, right? We have an agreement. And I'm doing my part. What else do you want from me?"

"It's just," Harry began, getting up from the bed and wrapping a sheet around his waist loosely. "I don't know. It's different."

"Oh, right. It's different. Do you want know what it's different, Harry? I've been a fool, but I've finally learnt the lesson. Never show yourself."

Harry frowned, confused.

"Do you know why it was so entertaining before, Harry? Because I let you know who I really am. You could see where push to hurt. Where touch to make me lose my mind. It was fun playing with me, wasn't it? Playing with me and your friends. You had such good time, had you not? But now it's over, 'cause it occurred to me that you only paid me for fucking you, staying silent, and behaving like your adoring puppet. But my damn soul wasn't mentioned, was it? So excuse me, but since it's the only thing that I have left, well, I don't see why I should allow you to destroy who I am in the process."

"I didn't mean to..."

"Oh, you didn't. What did you believe you were doing then?"

"You've been an arse with Ron and Herm. You would have had to apologise, sooner or later."

"My, my, Harry," Draco said, bitterly, shaking his head slowly. "Still hiding behind your friends? There was never anything between your friends and me. It has always been about you and me. I hate you. And reflexively, I hate your friends. But, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn't give a damn about them. Actually, I believe Hermione Granger has one of the most amazing minds I've ever met. And Weasley. Ronald Weasely. I think that if he were my friend, I would trust him with my life. And that’s quite a compliment since I’ve never trusted anybody."

Harry kept looking at him confused.

"You don't understand, Harry. Let your friends alone. The problem is, and has always been, between you and me. Period. I hate you. And I hurt your friends in order to hurt you. You hate me. And you make this big show of yours, with me forced to 'oh-my-god' apologise to poor Ron Weasley. But actually you weren't thinking about your friend's satisfaction, were you? You were thinking about your own bloody pleasure. At least tell me, Harry, did you like it? Was I humiliated enough? I bet I was since even Granger felt the need to defend me from you."

Draco had finished, but Harry could still sense the anger emanating from his slender body. He clearly felt the danger and the pain surrounding Draco. But he didn't care. Because he knew it was his fault and he felt strangely sorry.

So, slowly, as if trying to approach a frightened pet, he got closer to the Slytherin. Slowly he raised his hand, and placed it on Draco's silky cheek. Then, his fingers reached those platinum locks, moving through them in a soothing caress.

It was Harry's way to tell he was sorry. It was the only way to show it, since he was sure no words would have left his mouth even if he wanted. For Draco it was enough; he sighed deeply and closed his eyes.

"Why, Harry?" He whispered, and the only answer he got were Harry's lips on his own.

Draco opened his eyes in shock, but any possible anger was washed away as he saw Harry tender gaze, looking at him worriedly. He blinked slowly, while Harry's tongue ran on his lower lip teasingly, demanding for a chance, demanding for more. Draco shivered and clenched his teeth for a while, trying to remember why he didn't trust Harry, why he didn't wanted to be kissed, why it was wrong and why it would have hurt like hell, after.

But still there weren't answers, only Harry's lips worshipping on his own. Who would turn down such a sweet and adoring prayer?

Not Draco, because, cursing himself for being so damn weak, he opened his mouth slightly, allowing Harry's tongue to slide inside it. It was a gently intrusion, teasing. After a few moments, Draco found himself answering involuntarily to that assault, kissing back with the same sweetness and passion.

Sometimes, a kiss was worth a thousands words. Sometimes, a kiss revealed unexpressed feelings. Sometimes, it changed everything. And sometimes, it changed nothing. But one would never know until one shared a kiss.

So, even if they didn't know what had happened, what was happening and what would happen next, they kept kissing, desperately, as if in that moment, living depended exclusively on the contact of their lips.

Harry closed his arms around Draco, hugging him possessively and protectively. The fair-haired man felt surrounded by both darkness and light, but he gave in to Harry's embrace, moving his body as close as he could to the other's.

Then, when eventually their kiss broke, they stayed so, simply looking at each other, unable to let go of each other, their bodies crushed together in a convulsive embrace.

Draco laid his head on Harry's shoulder in abandonment, closing his eyes and breathing the sweet scent of his lover's bare skin.

"Sometimes, I feel this darkness in you. I don't know where it comes from and it's... frightening. Right now I wonder what you'll do next minute. Will you hold me? Or will you push me away?" he said in a barely audible whisper, maybe because he didn't really longed for an answer.

Harry flinched and hugged Draco tighter, as to test his reality, as if embracing his lover was the only way to keep his mind right there, in the sweet calm moment they were sharing.

Then, he answered the only way he could without lying.

"I don't know, Draco. I really don't know."

Go to next part.

people have been to this page since August 18, 2002.  
Part 11: Love, Maybe  
Do you really think  
that love is gonna save the world?  
Well, I don't think so  
Do you really think  
that love is gonna save your soul?  
Well I sure hope so  
I really hope so  
But I don't think so

"Do You Believe", The Cardigans

The first day of their second month found them together. The morning was streaming through the window, and rays of light were filling Harry's room. The black-haired man was slowly waking up, in the peaceful warmness of his bed. The bed he was sharing with Draco since that sort of silent truce. Harry smiled softly at the winter sun and, still half asleep, raised a hand to caress the silky blonde hair of his lover, feeling a sort of calm happiness surrounding him.

I'm falling in love with Draco Malfoy, he thought involuntarily. And with that epiphany, the Boy-Who-Lived woke up completely. Harry blinked and reached for his glasses on the nightstand, suddenly beginning to feel uncomfortable and somehow exposed, while those few words echoed again and again in his mind.

Draco was still peacefully sleeping, unaware of a very awake Harry shifting nervously under the sheets at his side.

Am I *really* falling in love with Draco Malfoy? Harry wondered coldly, suddenly looking at the shape of his lover and considering the strange sensations that hit him as his green gaze laid on the sleeping fair-haired man.

Shit.

Frantically, Harry got up, searching for his clothes while a thousands contrasting emotions swirled in his mind.

No way. I'm not falling in love with him. I *can't* fall in love with him. What the hell was I thinking? He's *Draco Malfoy*! I just can't let him get to me. I don't trust him. I don't trust him at all. I...

Harry was completely dressed now. He looked down, once more, at the fair-haired man. For a while, looking at his relaxed perfect features, Harry felt something softening inside his chest. Draco was so defenceless lying there on Harry's bed, unaware of the contrasting feelings that his presence was causing.

Harry's confusion lasted a while. Finally, the Gryffindor shook his head firmly and, pushing aside any further thought, he left, quickly and without looking back once. He couldn’t look at the man in his bed, because just looking at Draco evoked too many pleasurable sensations. And Harry was afraid of them, even if, as the worthy brave Gryffindor he happened to be, he would have never admitted it. Just as he would have never admitted that his possible falling for the Slytherin was becoming a bloody probability.

Harry ran, trying not to think that Gryffindors don’t run away.

"Mmm... Harry?"

When Draco woke up, the bed was empty, but in the past few days he had grown used to this. Harry always got up before him, and would go out for business. He laid back down on the bed, staying still for a while. Finally he stretched lazily and got up.

Draco was in a good mood that morning. He and Harry had had a good session last night. And he had slept peacefully. He smirked at his reflection in the mirror of the bathroom.

Harry had been almost caring since that night.

At least he hasn't made me regret giving in so easily that night, Draco considered. Well, not *yet*, he corrected himself.

The day went by slowly. Draco didn't really think about Harry’s absence, not until he finished watching an incredibly boring film. He yawned lazily, turning off the TV and stretching on the couch. Finally he checked his watch.

Half past twelve. And still no news about Harry, he thought, frowning.

Harry was always back for dinner. And for a good shag, Draco added mentally. But the day had passed without a single call from him. This was unusual and the Slytherin began to wonder if anything had happened. He was still making conjectures when he drifted into an agitated sleep.

Harry was drunk. Completely drunk and he couldn't find his keys.

"There. Let me help you," a voice said, amused, while a hand slipped easily inside the pocket of the tight jeans.

Harry chuckled.

"Wow. Do that again, T.R.," he drawled, smirking.

The man called T.R. laughed softly, shaking his head. Compared to Harry, he was completely sober.

"Impatient, aren't you, Harry?" he teased, pushing the door open, "I suggest getting in before. I don't think that making out here, in the hallway, would have very comfortable," T.R. said, pushing away some black locks from his blue eyes.

Harry slumped slowly against the man.

"Mmm, why not?" He murmured closing his eyes.

T.R. laughed again, dragging Harry inside the darkness of the flat.

"Maybe because in your state, you can't do it even in a bed, let alone standing up, leaning on a wall. You'd better go to sleep, there is no way you’re getting it up tonight."

"No way. I'm perfectly fine. Just give me a moment," Harry insisted in a slurred voice.

His mate sighed deeply at that, trying to find the switch on the wall without letting Harry slump further on the floor. A hard task to accomplish, actually, but fortunately T.R. didn't have to search for long, because suddenly the living room was filled by light.

The man blinked, finally focusing on a figure standing at the other side of the room, his hand still on the switch and a strange expression on his pale face. T.R. smiled uneasily.

"Harry... Harry, are you still there? You didn't tell me you had guests," the man began, his eyes fixed on Draco.

"Harry?" T.R. insisted after a while.

"I heard you," the drunken wizard answered, suddenly, his voice strangely firm.

T.R. looked at Harry, who was staring at Draco. Then, after a while, he spoke.

"I should go, now," the blue-eyed man said.

Harry shook his head and smiled at him, calmly.

"No. We had plans for tonight, hadn't we?"

T.R. blinked.

"We... Well, Harry, but," the man trailed, searching for the right words. "Who's that?"

Harry shifted his cold gaze on Draco, who stood still, too confused to say anything, and smirked.

"No one."

And with that, Harry took T.R.'s hand and dragged him into his room, leaving behind an astonished Draco.

No one.

Who's that?

No one.

Who am I?

No one.

Why am I worrying? It’s not true; I'm dreaming. Just dreaming. I was waiting for Harry and I fell asleep on the couch. I'll wake up when he comes back. Yes. I'm still sleeping now. And I'm just dreaming. The noises coming from his bedroom are nothing but a nightmare.

But it wasn't true. And Draco couldn't believe his lie, no matter how much he wanted to. So, trying to dispel any thought, he entered the kitchen and mechanically reached for a vodka bottle in the freezer. Without bothering with a glass, he took a long sip, barely registering the cool liquid burning inside him.

After some more draught, Draco slumped on the floor, his back against the wall, his gaze lost just as much as his heart. He could feel the alcohol began to run in his veins, but he wasn't numb enough to stop the pain in his chest. He passed a hand through his hair, sighing deeply.

I shouldn't feel pain, should I? I shouldn't care. We had a truce, nothing more. So why do I feel this bloody pain in my chest when I think about Harry shagging that guy? Shagging that guy in the other room as if I wasn't even here.

No one.

Oh, right. I'm no one to Harry. I'm the no one he fucked almost every damn day for the last damn month. I'm the no one he managed to hurt me. I'm the no one he kissed. And I’m the no one who kissed him back.

Draco chuckled softly, thinking about that kiss, about the way it had reached into his soul. Poisoning him. He shook his head tiredly and swallowed more vodka.

Well. I've been really stupid. I shouldn't have trusted him. I shouldn't have trusted *myself*. And I shouldn't have fallen in love. Shit.

Draco closed his eyes, breathing deeply, trying to ease that unbearable weight crushing his chest.

Because this is the problem. This is my cross and this is my pleasure. I, Draco Malfoy, am bloody in love with Harry Potter.

Unable to deny the truth any longer, Draco began to laugh hysterically, louder and louder, until, fearing to be heard, he bit his right hand until he tasted blood. When he felt the coppery taste in his mouth he stopped. He drew his knees to his chest, leaning his head against them defeated.

I'm in love with Harry Potter. And no one can save me from this. How can I be saved from myself?

Draco covered his ears with his hands, ignoring the blood dripping from his right one, staining his silky hair and the white floor of the kitchen. He felt sick. Tired. Helpless.

And desperately alone.

"Hey."

Draco jerked, waking up. He blinked. He looked around for a moment. The neon light was lightening the kitchen. He finally focused a pair of legs wrapped in dark jeans right in front of his eyes. Slowly, he raised his grey eyes until he focused on the stranger’s smiley face.

Draco narrowed his eyes, angrily and suspiciously. He had a throbbing headache and couldn’t recall clearly. Quick flashes the previous night assaulted him, hurting him physically and emotionally. The memories also reminded him that he did not like this man.

Draco was about to utter one of his sarcastic and pungent remarks when a cup of coffee materialized in front of him. Looking at the table, he realized that the stranger had prepared breakfast with an efficiency that spoke of familiarity. The bottle of vodka had disappeared and Draco had a blanket around his shoulders.

The Slytherin took the coffee mug from the other man and slowly got up. His head span dangerously, and if the man hadn't help him settle on a chair he would have fallen at the floor.

"Well, good morning. I see you are enjoying the wonderful effects of the day after. Aren’t hangovers a bitch?"

Draco said nothing, sipping his coffee. The man didn't seem to care and went on spreading butter on some slices of bread.

"By the way, I'm T.R.," he said conversationally, holding out his hand to Draco. Tiredly, Draco took it and flinched as the stranger squeezed lightly his wounded right hand.

T.R. frowned looking at the stains of blood on Draco's pale skin. The blonde looked away uneasily.

"It will get infected," T.R. said lightly. Then without adding a word, he left the kitchen.

Draco blinked and drew his attention back to his coffee.

Harry. Damn bastard. I hate you. I want to hate you. I *need* to hate you. Why can't things be back to the way they were?

His thoughts were interrupted by T.R.’s return. The man came back into the kitchen carrying a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and some band-aids. Without saying a word, he took Draco's hand and began to treat it. The wizard stayed silent until T.R. finished.

"Thanks."

The other just shrugged.

"More coffee?" T.R. asked simply. Draco nodded, looking away.

"T.R... What sort of name it is?"

"Thomas Raphael. But people use it rarely. It's too long." he explained, smiling.

"My name is Draco," suddenly the wizard said, looking away.

"It's nice."

After that they remained silent for a while.

"Are you Harry's boyfriend?" T.R. asked after a while, distractedly.

Draco flinched. Then he shook his head.

"But you love him, don't you?"

Draco blinked, looking at the man in front of him as if he had grown another head. T.R. smiled softly.

"Is it so obvious?" Draco asked, flatly.

The man shook his head.

"No. It's just that I'm good at guessing. And I've been knowing Harry for a while."

Draco didn't move his eyes from T.R. as he began to talk.

"Harry is full of shit. I mean, he has something inside, something heavy he's carrying around trying to ignore it. When the weight becomes unbearable he snaps. Usually he comes to me. We get drunk, he talks, mainly about nothing, and when he gets tired of talking, we shag. This is the basis of our relationship," T.R. explained, smiling.

"We’ve been doing it since we first met in a pub. That night, we were both alone and particularly pissed off. He wanted to talk; I didn't want to think. We both wanted to get drunk. And we both wanted to shag. Breathlessly and heartlessly."

The blue-eyed man paused, thinking about his last statement.

"If you're really in love with him, you've got a big problem, Draco. Harry hurts people. Involuntarily, but deeply. I knew it and I've been smart enough not to grow too attached to him. But I understand from your look that my words are useless for you."

Draco sighed rubbing his temples.

"Not useless," he said. "Just late."

T.R. grimaced.

"Well, then I can only give you an advice, if you want it."

Draco nodded, tiredly.

"Look for the darkness inside him. Study it. And if you think that you can deal with it, then you'll be able to deal with Harry."

The Slytherin stared at the man, considering those words, wondering about his feelings and his fears, about Harry's darkness and his kisses. Draco sighed.

"I hope I will."

"You'll have to," T.R. stated gravely. "Otherwise he'll make you regret of having a heart."

After that, they remained silent for a long while, both lost in their thoughts. Finally T.R. got up.

"I've to go now. I don't want to be here when Harry wakes up. He's a bitch when he's got a headache."

Draco got up too and led the blue-eyed man to the front door.

"Nice to meet you, Draco. And good luck. Hopefully this is the last time I see you or Harry."

The blonde nodded slightly and T.R. smiled at him. They shook their hands and the blue-eyed man left. Draco closed the door and leaned against it, lost in his thoughts.

Look for the darkness.

The Slytherin felt as he was suffocating, caught between his thoughts and the stale air lingering in the flat. Without thinking twice about it, he unconsciously followed Harry’s example and left, without even really knowing where he was going.

Go to next part.

people have been to this page since August 18, 2002.  
Part 12: Late, Too Late  
you love the way I look at you  
while taking pleasure in the awful things you put me through  
you take away if I give in  
my life  
my pride is broken

you like to think you're never wrong  
you want to act like you're someone  
you want someone to hurt like you  
you want to share what you've been through  
(you live what you learn)

"Points Of Authority", Linkin Park

"Damn."

Harry groaned, rolling on the bed and fighting with the mess that were his sheets. He kept his eyes shut, because the warm light of the afternoon wounded them, causing sharp waves of pain to cross his skull. He struggled for a while, not really wanting to get up but unable to stay in bed any longer.

"Bloody headache," he cursed, finally heading towards the bathroom. He washed his face with cold water until he eased the uncomfortable pounding sensation behind his eyelids.

Sighing deeply and without bothering to look at his unfocused reflection on the mirror, Harry went back to his room, where he put on a tight jumper and a pair of jeans. Tiredly, he put on his glasses and made his way to the kitchen.

The flat was silent but Harry didn't notice, because his head seemed to be in a bubble of glass. However, once in the kitchen, he noticed the breakfast forgotten on the table. Harry looked away from the buttered bread. Just the idea of putting anything more than a cup of black coffee in his stomach made him queasy. Reaching the coffee machine he saw two cups abandoned on the counter. The cleaning spell hadn't worked.

Probably because it sensed T.R., Harry thought, placing them in the sink, barely noticing how they disappeared. I should modify the charm, to make it work again once Muggles are gone away. But before that I should take care of my headache. Well, in both cases I need my wand.

Harry took another cup, filled it with coffee and left the kitchen. He entered his study and sat in his chair, leaning back on it. Sighing, Harry took a sip of coffee, before putting the mug down on the desk in front of him. He opened the first drawer where, under some papers, he found his old wand.

Tentatively, Harry reached it. Under his fingers, the wood seemed warm and vibrating. Something between a smile and a grimace crossed Harry's lips. That single object carried so many memories with it, good and bad. Finally, he sighed, pushed away any further thought and, placing the tip of his wand at his temple, murmured a simple spell that Hermione had taught him.

His headache lessened considerably and, satisfied with the result, Harry placed his wand in the pocket of his carpenter’s jeans and calmly finished his coffee trying not to think.

It was half past three when he returned to the kitchen with his empty mug. He decided to eat and took a slice of buttered bread. He was moving around the table that he noticed the red-brown stains on the white floor of the room. Harry frowned, barely registering the fact that it was blood. Because, for some unknown reason, his brain associated the bloodstain with another thought:

Where is Draco?

Ron was watching a football match in TV, but he wasn't really enjoying the show. He didn't even have a team he fancied. He simply looked at the players running behind a ball and wondered what people liked about such a boring game.

Quidditch is better. But then, Quidditch is Quidditch, he considered smirking.

It was half past nine and the red-haired man was taking a beer from the fridge, barely noticing the rain that washed the window of the kitchen, when the doorbell rang. Frowning, Ron opened the door. And when he recognized the soaked trembling figure in his hallway, the red-haired man frowned even deeper.

"Hi, Herm."

Hermione blinked, as waking up from a long dream.

"Ron," she said, her voice tiny and trembling as mirroring her appearance. "Oh, Ron..." Hermione seemed to choke on those simple words and, blindly, she pushed herself in her friend arms.

And while he caressed her hair lightly, he suspected that it wasn't rain that was soaking his t-shirt. The liquid running down his neck from where Hermione had hidden her face was strangely warm.

Harry paced up and down the living room liked a caged beast.

What does he think he's doing? Does he *hope* to make me worry?

Harry leaned against a window, looking down at the streets, shining in the rain and in the lights of the night. He sighed. He could have told me he was going out. He *should* have. He can't do what he wants. Things don't work this way. Not with me. But he seems to have forgotten this part. Well, maybe it's time to remind him, Harry thought, his mind darkening under the anger and the worry he would have never admitted.

He narrowed his eyes, his gaze focusing on the rain that was hitting the window violently now.

Come on, Draco. I'm waiting for you.

Hermione was sitting on Ron's bed, wrapped in a blue bathrobe too big for her, with a cup of camomile tea in her hands.

Ron was leaning against the doorframe, worriedly looking down at her. He had just managed to take her inside his flat before she broke down completely, crying as a child and babbling nonsense about faults and lies.

"Herm..."

As he called her, she flinched and raised her gaze on him. Her eyes were red and watery.

Ron felt a sting of pain at the sight of his best friend in that condition. He wanted to hug her again, just as she had let him do before. He wanted to caress her long chocolate hair and whisper in her ear that it was all ok.

But he did nothing and simply continued staring at her until she spoke again. This time, Hermione seemed to have regained her rational composure.

"I haven't been a good friend, Ron," she began, looking straight in his blue eyes.

"Not to you nor to Harry. Especially not to Harry. I told you lies, believing to be doing the right thing. Flattering myself with being able to know what was the right thing. I've been only stupid and arrogant."

Ron saw her grimacing at the sound of her own words. But before he could say anything to reassure her, Hermione went on.

"Since we went to Harry and Malfoy I've been thinking about it, but I can't find a solution. I began to think that there aren't any solutions at this point. But maybe I'm doing the same mistake again. Maybe I'm being a stupid and arrogant again."

She sighed, clutching the warm cup in her hands. Suddenly, she smiled, recalling a distant memory.

"How did we call him?" Hermione asked, suddenly. Before Ron could ask what she wanted to know, she went on. "Oh, right: arrogant git. Well, once that arrogant git asked for my help. Draco Malfoy raised the white flag and came to me, to Hermione Granger, the Mudblood for help, please. I used to think I was better than him. But I'm not so sure lately, because I didn't ask for your help back then, even if you were my best friend and not my worst enemy."

Ron frowned, confused. He needed more pieces to solve that puzzle.

"And even now, it took so long before I admitted that, yes, I need help," the witch said, shaking her head helplessly. "But now I'm here, right? I'm older. And if I'm not better than Malfoy, I can at least be as good as he," she stated, sighing.

Hermione seemed to ponder on her next words for a while. Then, finally, she raised her sad gaze on Ron and spoke, her voice trembling slightly.

"Ron, could you help me, please?"

When Draco came back, he found Harry's flat surrounded in darkness. He closed the front door behind him and, without bothering with the light, he moved towards his room.

"Where the fuck were you, Draco?"

The Slytherin blinked, scanning the darkness. Finally, he noticed a shadow against the window frame.

"Out."

The shadow didn't answer but, after a while, the room filled with light, showing Harry's figure. Draco looked at him blankly. Harry felt his previous headache coming back twice as strong as before. He sighed rubbing his temples.

"It's two o'clock in the morning." Harry stated, flatly.

"Where you worried?"

"No."

Silence followed. Chilling silence. Nobody broke it, but suddenly, Draco moved, approaching Harry.

The dark-haired wizard frowned as Draco raised a hand and pushed his slender fingers through the untidy hair. When his cold hand reached Harry's neck, the Slytherin pulled tentatively. And as Harry followed that gentle movement, Draco's lips where on his, softly, teasingly, then hungry and angry, demanding and requesting.

Harry blinked in surprise, opening his mouth slightly while Draco licked his lower lip softly. Draco’s hands travelled on the Gryffindor's back teasingly, thrillingly, sending shivers down Harry's spine.

Soon Harry found himself answering Draco's initiative, touching the platinum hair wet, with rain, invading his warm mouth, caressing those pale lips and that teasing tongue. He felt his excitement grow and let the sensations surround him just as his arms surrounded Draco's slender body in a possessive embrace.

But suddenly their kiss stopped. Harry looked down at Draco interrogatively, loosening his hug until the Slytherin was able to come out of it.

He kept staring at Harry with a blank expression. And a disgusted grimace on his lips.

Harry blinked, blood painfully rushing through his brain, pounding in his temples.

"What, Draco?" Harry asked annoyed, not liking that expression.

"What? Why don't you tell me, Harry? It seems to me you want to shag. Is that the reason you were so impatient?"

The Gryffindor frowned deeply. Then he licked his lips and, still tasting Draco, he looked at him, angrily.

"Well? Can't I?"

Draco smiled at that. But it was only a movement of his lips, because his eyes stayed empty and cold.

"Obviously you can shag me. I'm your whore after all, aren't I?" Draco wondered, sarcastically. Then he shrugged, smirking. "I just thought you were tired of me, Harry."

"Tired? Why?" The Gryffindor asked, looking at Draco suspiciously.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because of T.R.?"

Harry smirked, searching for Draco's gaze.

"Are we jealous, Draco?" He wondered aloud, finally catching those grey eyes, looking for a reaction. But the Slytherin was completely in control of himself and his eyes weren't different from two pools of ice.

"No. Not jealous. It's just that you don't scream with me like you did with him," he stated, distractedly.

Harry's eyes widened, hit by that sudden and careless remark.

"Oh, sorry, Harry. I didn't want to embarrass you. But, you see, it was really impossible not to hear you. Even after I covered my ears. Anyway, I just thought that there was no need for you to shag me again tonight. I can perfectly understand if you don't have fun anymore. I promise you I won't mourn over this," Draco said, his sarcastic voice faking innocence.

Harry could feel a warmness rising to his cheeks, but he couldn't tell if he was blushing in embarrassment or in anger.

"Draco."

The Gryffindor said that name as if it was a threat, but the Slytherin was a bit too tired to jump at Harry's orders. And, over all, he knew he had nothing to lose.

"Yes, Harry," he answered teasingly.

"You're wrong. And I want to fuck tonight," Harry growled, his green gaze flashing with anger.

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"If you say so. Always at your disposal, Harry."

The Gryffindor could feel a hot rage pumping in his vein. Draco was pushing him towards the edge with that show of mischievousness.

"One last thing before we do the dirty deed. Just because I want you to be satisfied with my... performance."

The Slytherin took a step closer to Harry, smirking. The Gryffindor looked at him suspiciously.

"Yesterday... Did you scream so much because he was a better shag than me or because he fucked you better than you fuck me?"

Harry flinched. And Draco's smile grew wider.

"Is it so, Harry? Did you change your tastes?"

The Slytherin assumed a mockingly amazed expression and Harry narrowed his eyes, clenching his fists. Draco noticed it, but he didn't really care. Things had taken a life of their own. The Slytherin continued his teasing, with his voice low.

"Ashamed, Harry? I can understand you. God knows if I understand you. But you don't have to and you can tell me, you know. I just want you to give you the best. Even if it means give you my di-"

It was enough. Harry didn't want Draco to continue. And so Draco didn't finish. Because something hit him, something between a fist and a slap, right on his mouth, strong enough to make his head jerk on one side and splitting his lips.

For a while both stared at each other with the same astonished look. But in the end, Draco looked away, raising a hand tentatively to his lips, flinching as he brushed them, staining his pale fingers with blood. That was the detail that hit Harry. Red stains on ivory skin. And Draco's grey eyes, full of hate, anger, and something bad, something that squeezed Harry's heart painfully. Disappointment.

The anger seemed to have suddenly left Harry. And now the Gryffindor felt tired, empty and sorry.

"Draco, I'm sorry..." He tried, coming closer.

The blonde looked at him and took a step back. Harry searched for his eyes, painfully conscious of having pushed the things too far. But Draco's eyes said nothing, they were suddenly dim and empty and this increased the weight of Harry's sorrow.

"There's no need for you to say you're sorry," suddenly the Slytherin murmured. "I'm sorry."

The black-haired man blinked, confused.

"You said you wouldn't have hurt me again. And I believed you," Draco continued, and Harry flinched at those words, because they were painfully true, "I'm sorry for being such a fool," he whispered, looking away again.

"Did you notice how it always seems to be too late between you and me, Harry?"

A bitter grimace was twisting Draco's lips as he spoke. Harry noticed it while he tried to figure out where those words were going.

"Always too late. On the train, I was late, and I lost your friendship. Three years ago, instead, you were late, and I lost everything, 'cause unfortunately Voldemort was still hanging around when I came back home and I had to choose. But then, again, I'm late because I never said I'm sorry when I have could, I never prevented you from hating me. And again you're late, because now your apologies are just -" he trailed off, searching for the right words "- useless. We're always running after each other. In hate. Anger. Or else. Whatever it is, do you think we'll ever reach what we're running after? The goal always seems to be here, right in front of me. I think that I just have to stretch out my hand to take it, 'cause I'm almost there, I've almost done it."

Harry blinked, observing as Draco really stretched out his hand, his grey eyes shining as if he was really about to catch what he wanted. He man felt a sudden urge to hug the other, because it was tearing his heart to look at the blonde standing there, looking so fragile and sad, with his gaze now dreamy and lost.

"Almost."

Draco closed his fingers. But his hand was holding nothing.

"Almost is never enough, Harry. Never," he stated looking at his hand. "And every time I feel the emptiness that can't fill my hands filling my soul. Or what is left of it," Draco said, raising his eyes. "It's just that I'm so tired. I could sleep forever. Sometimes, I dream of lying down, just like I do every night. Lying down believing to wake up the next morning. With the only difference that there won't be a next morning. And do you believe me if I tell you that I wouldn't care? Who would? Maybe you, Harry?"

Draco smiled bitterly at him, shaking his head slightly.

"Then, hurt me, Harry. It shouldn't be difficult. Actually, I think you're the only one who has ever been able to do it. And you do it so well. So hurt me. Make me bleed and cry until there's nothing left but pain. Because that's the only thing that tells me that tomorrow the sun will rise for me too. That tomorrow there will be another morning. And I will still be breathing."

Harry said nothing. He found it difficult to breathe. There was a weight in his chest, a pounding pain. He felt Draco's eyes on himself. He felt he should say something. But he couldn't, because the Gryffindor was scared. He had just seen the deepest desperation of a soul.

I *believed* you.

"You don't really want this, Draco," suddenly he said, with a voice that he couldn't even recognize as his.

"Since when do you worry about what I want?"

The Slytherin looked at Harry defiantly.

"Do you think that I like to be your slave? That I like to be fucked by you? Or fucked in general? Do you think that I want you to hurt me this way? Do you think that I put my trust in you because I wanted to see you to throwing it away?"

"What do you want from me, Draco?"

The Slytherin shook his head tiredly.

"I never expected anything from you. But you, Harry? What do you want from me?"

The Gryffindor didn't answer, but looked away, pondering that question. And Draco went on.

"I know you like to see me this way. Maybe it's the sadistic vein of our Golden Boy, who knows... But you really enjoy hurting me, don't you, Harry? Since you met me there, in that club, you could only think about pushing me deeper in the mud. As if I wasn't already broken enough. Again, it's never enough for you, Harry, isn't it? I'll never pay enough. I'll never be a person for you, only the memory of a childhood enemy, a painful memory to destroy."

"You're right."

Draco blinked, surprised, and Harry looked at him, smiling softly.

"I like to hurt you. It makes me feel good when you suffer because of me. I think it gives me more pleasure than actually fucking you. Because I fuck you to hurt you, Draco, and not because of the sex per se. Maybe this is the reason why I don't let go when I am with you. I'm too busy enjoying the sight of a beautiful broken doll crushed under me."

Harry took a step closer, his smile still on his lips, dangerous, and as the cold fire that lightened his green eyes.

"Do you really want to see how much darkness there is inside me?" the Gryffindor questioned, touching Draco's wounded lips lightly.

"Do you really want me to hurt you? I can give you so much pain."

Harry's finger pressed the bloodied skin, making Draco flinch. The Gryffindor's smile grew wider.

"Is this really what you need? I'll break you. I'll burn you. Until there's nothing left."

Harry's arms shifted around Draco slender waist, hugging the Slytherin gently. The black-haired man's breath tickled Draco's ear when he spoke again.

"I've tried to be good, Draco. A part of me says that I don't want to hurt you. A part of me is sorry for this and regrets the pain and the humiliations I put you through. But then, when I look at you, my soul screams for blood and tears, for revenge and hate," Harry whispered, his embrace tightening.

Draco said nothing, breathing slowly under the growing pressure of his ribs painfully crushed in Harry's hug.

"So, Draco? Do you want to see what I really want from you?"

Again, the answer was a long silence, at least until Draco managed to breathe enough to speak.

"Yes."

It was only a whisper, barely audible. But it was enough. Harry released the blonde. When he took a step back, Draco saw Harry's expression and couldn’t stop the cold chill that ran through his body.

Harry smiled, cruelly satisfied. His eyes delivered the promise of the nightmares to come.

Go to next part.

people have been to this page since August 18, 2002.  
Part 13: Point of No Return  
As you look around this room tonight  
Settle in your seat and dim the lights  
Do you want my blood, do you want my tears?  
What do you want?  
What do you want from me?

"What Do You Want From Me", Pink Floyd

Hermione finished her tale at three o'clock in the morning. She had talked softly, but Ron hadn't lost one single word, listening attentively, not daring to move from the doorframe, not tearing his eyes from his friend once.

Now they were both silent, both thinking even if about different things. Ron was considering the sudden information, trying to order and digest them. Hermione, instead, was uncertain if she was relieved for finally having told Ron everything or scared for his possible reaction. In the end, her friend sighed deeply and sat on the bed next to her.

"It's a big mess, Herm."

She simply nodded at that statement.

"But somehow we should solve it. I think that the only thing we could do is talk to them," he suggested, smiling softly.

"When?"

"Tomorrow, first thing in the morning," he said. Hermione nodded softly, but she didn't seem really convinced.

Ron embraced her, gently. Hermione flinched, surprised, but suddenly relaxed while he caressed her hair slowly.

"Don't worry Herm. I'll be with you," he whispered and she hugged him back, feeling reassured by his presence.

They stayed so, for a long while, until she spoke again, her voice muffled against his neck.

"Ron."

"Yes?"

"Can I sleep here?"

"Sure."

They parted, but only slightly. Hermione raised her gaze, a little shy smile on her lips. Then, slowly, while he looked at her confused and surprised, she leaned against him, placing her lips on his, tentatively. He blinked, feeling a surge of electricity travel through his body.

They parted again, and Hermione looked at him, fearing but needing a reaction. She didn't have to wait for long, because after a while he repeated her gesture, gently brushing her skin, unconsciously requesting for something more. That something more that Hermione gave him parting her lips slightly, allowing his tongue to enter her mouth, sweetly, adoringly.

They had been friends for a long time. What happened in those few moments was past that mild feeling. It was beyond reasoning and alliance. It was as finally crossing a falling bridge, reaching the point of no return.

Their kiss was the hole in a dam. It was nothing compared to the barrier it was damaging. A kiss was nothing against years of faithful friendship. But at the same time it was enough because it made the dam collapse all at once.

The spark that made the fire broke out.

"Ron."

"Yes?"

"Can I sleep with you?"

"Sure."

Draco drew back slowly, never tearing his eyes from Harry. The other man observed him smirking. Draco could understand the amusement. It said what they both knew: they had crossed the line. And now they were at the point of no return.

"Scared Draco?"

The blonde thought better than to answer. He observed how Harry's smile grew.

"You should," Harry said, slowly closing the distance that Draco had unconsciously created.

He was so close now. The Slytherin could sense rage, hate and danger emanate from Harry. He barely had time to think that he had opened the gates of hell before it began.

Harry punched him right at the pit of his stomach, knocking the air out of him. Draco bent forward, clutching his abdomen, his eyes widened in shock. He tried to breath but he found he couldn't do it. He blinked, slumping at the floor when suddenly Harry caught him.

Draco said nothing. He still couldn't breathe and just when he realized that he was actually suffocating, Harry leaned on him, kissing him viciously. The Slytherin felt his head spin and his body go numb at the lack of oxygen. Harry was still violating his mouth but he couldn't do anything.

Harry kissed him some more before biting hard his lower lip, opening again his fresh wound, tasting his blood victoriously. It was then that Harry noticed that the Slytherin’s grey eyes were rolling back in his head. He parted from him smirking.

"What Draco? Fainting, already? But we had just began and you'll miss all the fun."

Then, clutching the collar of Draco’s shirt, Harry held him up and slapped him. Hard. Once. Twice. Trice. Finally, Draco answered to that assault with a sharp intake of air. He blinked regaining his consciousness, breathing hard, becoming more and more aware of the pain that pounded in his stomach and on his face. Harry let him go and he slumped on the floor. The Gryffindor observed the scene slightly amused.

"Get up, Draco."

The fair-haired man didn't react. Harry shook his head and, suddenly, he kicked the man lying at his feet. His shoe connected with Draco's ribs heavily, and as soon as the pain crossed him, the Slytherin had to restrain a scream.

"Get up."

Slowly, Draco pushed himself up on unsure legs, clutching his chest where he could feel a pair of cracked ribs. Harry put his hands on Draco's shoulder, softly.

"Next time don't make me repeat," he said sweetly, while his fingers dug deeper and deeper into Draco's flesh. "Ok?" Harry asked.

Draco blinked, raising his gaze until meeting the green one. Green and out of control. He nodded.

"Clever boy," Harry stated, leaning to lick Draco's blood from his lips. "Mmm... You taste good," he stated, while his mouth travelled until it reached the Slytherin's neck.

Harry kissed and sucked the soft skin and, unconsciously, Draco moaned at that contact. Then, suddenly, he bit down, hard, on the delicate flesh, until he drew blood. He smiled, the coppery taste filling his mouth, and kissed again his victim, roughly, violently.

Draco felt sick at the taste of his own blood. He struggled, trying to get free. Unfortunately, Harry didn't like the weak show of rebellion and hit him again, in his stomach and in his chest, several times until the Gryffindor seemed to get tired of that and shoved him away forcefully.

Draco drew back under the thrust and, losing his balance, he fell against the wall behind him, hitting a picture with his head. The glass smashed and fell on the floor where soon the Slytherin slumped half unconscious, leaving a trail of blood on the wall due to his head wound. Harry sighed.

"Look what you've done."

Draco said nothing, fighting to remain conscious, focusing on the pounding pain in his head. Harry looked at the other man. The Slytherin looked liked a broken doll, slouching on the ground, leaning against the wall. He was a mess, with his beautiful face abandoned on his chest, stained with blood and bruised. His usual platinum hair, once wet with rain, looked a deep red-brown thanks to a deep cut he had received by the shattering glass.

Harry moved towards him and sat on the floor in front of him. Then, he placed a hand under Draco's chin and forced him to look up.

"Tired yet?" He asked.

Draco blinked, pondering the question. And then he answered.

"No. Go on, Harry. I'm sure you can do worse than this," he said in a cracking voice.

Harry narrowed his eyes, angrily. Then, almost lazily, he took a piece of glass from the floor. He played with it for a while, studying its sharpness. Finally, smirking, he pointed it at Draco's cheek, pressing as much as he could without drawing blood.

Harry studied the silver gaze and he noticed how it didn't waver. Not for an instant. Then, he sighed, moving the tip of the glass from Draco's face down to his neck. When he reached the collar of the shirt, Harry used it to cut the fabric. Then, he ripped it open revealing pale bruised skin.

Draco’s eyes were following Harry's actions, and the Gryffindor knew it. He felt really good in doing what he was doing. The taste of blood in his mouth was delirious. Harry smiled softly and slowly pushed the glass blade on that smooth skin. Cutting. Blood again, accompanied by a convulsive breath.

Harry looked while the crimson liquid oozed on the whiteness of Draco's skin. The contrast was amazing. From the Slytherin’s pale complexion, you would think that he had milk in his veins. But that was unmistakably blood. Harry’s tongue wouldn't lie to him. In fact, he slowly surveyed the fresh wound with his tongue, leaving a trail of blood and saliva.

Finally{, Harry looked at the other. Draco seemed to be observing him in a detached way. This made Harry smile and he leaned towards the pale man, kissing his mouth softly, teasingly. Draco moaned in pleasure and pain, because while Harry tongue was busy exploring hungrily his mouth, the glass in his hand had begun to find, once more, its sick way over his chest and arms, leaving a trail of cuts, some deeper, some less.

"Mmm... Glad you like it, Draco," Harry said, parting from the Slytherin’s lips.

The fair-haired man smiled, disgusted at the statement.

"I'm just complying with your madness."

Harry narrowed his eyes and suddenly, his hands caught Draco's throat, squeezing it dangerously. Then, he raised the glass blade and pointed it under the Slytherin’s right eyes.

"Pay attention to what you say, Draco," he spat out venomously. "I feel like I could kill you."

Draco didn't answer. He couldn't speak since his lungs lacked the needed air, but throwing aside every care he mouthed two words:

Do it.

Harry narrowed his eyes at those silent words. Then, he shook his head and laughed.

"Always sure of yourself. Good. It wouldn't be funny if you gave in too easily. Besides, we have plenty of time to play," he said, letting go the pale slender throat.

Draco breathed hardly. Before he could manage to do anything about it, Harry began to drag him toward the bedroom.

"Come on, Draco. You look like a damn corpse," he said, letting go of Draco who fell on the floor of Harry's room with a dull noise.

"Very well," Harry said, taking the wand from his pocket and rolling it lazily between his fingers. "Do you know that pain becomes you? You look so good hurt and bruised."

The Gryffindor pointed the wand at Draco and muttered few words.

"But you look even better this way," Harry stated, smirking at the Slytherin, who was firmly bound on his bed.

Again, Draco didn't answer. And Harry sighed.

"My, my Draco. What's with this silence? You wanted me to make you scream, didn't you?"

The Gryffindor climbed on the bed and sat on Draco's legs, looking at him questioningly.

"You wanted me to make you bleed. To hurt you. I am exhausted from trying to live up to your expectations, Draco. What else do you want from me?" Harry asked softly, his green eyes burning dangerously, while he seemed to be thinking about an answer. Draco said nothing, but he could see the dreamy smile on Harry’s face. He was not surprised by the next words.

"Oh right. I still have to break you."

It was a rabid beast that was ripping away what remained of Draco's clothes. And it was a hungry beast that was savouring the bruised and bloodied skin, licking, sucking.

Draco shivered under the assault, but he couldn't tell if it was fear or something else. He was in a daze, looking at his body react slightly at Harry's movements and barely listening at his mind screaming in horror.

He managed to remain conscious, but he was observing everything in a detached way, as if it wasn't him who was firmly tied up, naked, wounded and exposed. Coldly, he looked at Harry unzipping his trousers and lowering on him, that shark smile still on his lips.

Draco kept contemplating the scene from far away until a sudden burning pain crossed his body, making it arch involuntarily. He breathed deeply, trying to relax under Harry's intrusion, trying not to think about the pain, the humiliation and that warm wet sensation he could feel oozing between his legs.

Harry pushed hard, again and again, inside that tight violated warmness, until Draco couldn't help but cry in pain. Only then, he stopped, looking down at the upset face of the Slytherin.

"Draco," he called softly.

The fair-haired man opened his eyes slowly, focusing them on Harry. The Gryffindor registered a plain, deep desperation in those silver pools. But he didn't care, not now.

"Does it hurt?"

Draco didn't answer. He blinked confused, breathing hard, with his chest crushed under Harry's weight.

"Do you want to know why it hurts so much?" Harry asked, touching Draco's hair lightly, brushing it away from his sweaty forehead. "Because there's no love. There will never be love for you. And now do your job, be my whore and let me fuck you," he stated smirking.

Draco looked at him astonished, until Harry began again to take his pleasure from the pale body. He blinked, suddenly detached again. Harry was fucking him, but he could only think about the words he had just said. His body was screaming in pain but he couldn't feel it. Because the only thing that mattered in that moment was the pain clutching at his heart, threatening to make it implode in sufferance and desperation.

No love. There was no love in what was happening in that room. Not in what had happened in every room every day of Draco's life. And he was just realizing it.

Harry frowned, observing that the Slytherin had gone silent and still. The dark-haired man looked at him, noticing his face turned on one side. Harry frowned deeper.

"Draco."

The Slytherin didn't answer.

"Draco, look at me when I fuck you," Harry growled, angrily.

But still the other didn't answer, making him lose his little patience. Harry slapped him, making the blonde head jerk towards him. And only then he noticed it.

Shining trails on pale skin. Silent tears on a face that maybe, for the first time, was speaking volumes.

It was like suddenly looking straight into Draco's soul. It was like touching his pain and his emptiness. And Harry was realizing that he was the cause. For the first time, he realized just what he was doing.

What followed was a rush. Harry drew back quickly, without tearing his gaze from those crystalline pearls. Automatically, he pulled up his trousers. Then he opened his mouth, trying to say something, but everything had been washed away by those tears.

Harry looked again at the pale shape pinned on his bed. And he blinked.

What have I done?

The answer to his question was right there, still and sad as broken doll. Only it wasn't a doll. It was Draco. Draco, who kept crying helplessly, silently, bitter desperate tears escaping from his unfocused silvery eyes.

Harry stepped back blindly, until he had his back against the wall. He felt trapped. He wanted to run away even if, deep inside, he knew that there wasn't a place where he could hide. He couldn't escape from himself, but he couldn't even stay there any longer. 

Finally, he raised his wand and disapparated.

You can lose yourself this night  
See inside there is nothing to hide  
Turn and face the light  
What do you want from me?

Go to next part.

people have been to this page since August 18, 2002.  
Part 14: Like Rain  
Since I've Been Loving You, I'm about to lose my worried mind.  
Said I've been crying, my tears they fell like rain,  
Don't you hear, Don't you hear them falling,  
Don't you hear, Don't you hear them falling.

"Since I've Been Loving You", Led Zeppelin

It wasn't the morning sun that woke up Hermione. It was still raining outside as expected from a winter working day. No, it was the sensation that she had something to do. She opened her calm brown eyes and blinked in the soft light. She suddenly turned in the bed, knowing whom she would face by doing so. The relaxed features of Ron's sleepy face gave her the best good morning in a long time.

Hermione smiled, suddenly feeling satisfied, complete, in a way she had never been until the previous night, drifting in and out of sleep surely wrapped in Ron's protective embrace. She rubbed her eyes, slightly yawning, and then, slowly, careful to not wake up her friend, her more-than-friend now, she leaned towards him and gently brushed her lips on his forehead.

"'Morning, Ron," she whispered.

The redhead moaned in his sleep and she smiled as he frowned and unconsciously rubbed his skin where she had kissed him. He looked like a little child when he was asleep, and the witch felt her heart soften at that sweet sight.

Finally, she got up and searched for her clothes that had been thrown here and there in their excited rush. Hermione entered the bathroom, with the intention of exiting from there only when she was fully dressed and ready to go. She had decided to go alone to face Harry and Malfoy. After all, Ron didn't deserve that stress and, if things got really bad between her and Harry, she didn't want him to be caught in the crossfire.

Once ready, she gave a last look to her sleepy lover and left, leaving a little note on the table in the kitchen where she reassured him that she would have come back soon.

It didn't take long to reach Harry's flat. She was in front of his door when she began to process the fact that it would be hard to explain everything. And it would be even harder to maintain her friendship with her friend. Hermione mentally prepared herself for the worst. Finally, she sighed, rang the doorbell and reassured herself that she was doing what was necessary. Harry deserved the truth just as much as she deserved his anger.

She was still lost in her thoughts when she noticed that nobody had answered the door. Frowning, the witch tried again. Again there was no answer.

Maybe he's out, she thought slightly disappointed.

Hermione tried some more and she was ready to leave when her mobile rang, making her jump.

Why am I so nervous? She wondered answering the calling.

"Hermione?"

The witch blinked, immediately recognizing the voice speaking, but not understanding its tone.

"Ron?"

"Herm... Oh god, where are you?" Ron asked, his voice trembling.

"Ron? I'm in front of Harry's door. But he isn't in. What's up?" She asked not caring to hide her worry.

"He's here."

"Harry?"

"He... He apparated in my kitchen a moment ago and..."

"Ron? What's happening?" She insisted, her worry suddenly changing in fear. Ron was never that nervous. And she sensed something really wrong in his hesitation.

"He's in shock, I think. He keeps rambling something about Malfoy and he... He's covered in blood, Herm. But he's ok, I mean... I don't think it's his..."

Hermione swallowed hardly, her mouth suddenly dry. She looked at the closed door in front of her.

Think. Think. Think.

"All right, Ron," she said, suddenly, her voice firm again. "Keep him there, don't let him go, absolutely."

"Ok, but you? Aren't you coming?" He asked worriedly.

"Later. I've something to do right now. But I'll call you again as soon as possible. Ron... I trust you. Don't let him go. And, for god sake, don't tell him anything. Do you understand me, Ron? Wait for me."

As soon as their conversation ended she began to search into her bag for her wand.

Where the hell is it, she wondered angrily before she finally felt the reassuring wood under her fingers. Hermione sighed in relief and drew it out, pointing it at the door.

"Alohomora," she whispered.

The click of the lock was her only answer. Hermione pushed the door open and stepped in, unsure and determined at the same time. Carefully moving through Harry's flat, she looked around.

"Malfoy?" Hermione called, tentatively. "Is there any-"

She couldn't finish, because one of the living room walls caught her attention. There was a picture on it, whose glass had been shattered and had fallen on the floor in a glistening mess, a glistening and bloodied mess.

Hermione forgot to breathe as her eyes followed a light trail of blood that crossed the room and disappeared in a corridor.

"Malfoy?" She called again, unable to stop the trembling in her voice. She followed the trail that led to Harry's bedroom. The door was left ajar, but without thinking twice about it, she pushed it opened. Hermione blinked while her jaw fell slightly.

"Oh.God."

"Harry."

Ron was worried. Since Harry had apparated in his kitchen, he had repeated the same words like a mantra: What have I done? Draco, what have I done to you?

Then, suddenly, he had gone silent. Ron looked at his friend; he really didn't know what to think or say. Harry was sitting in on the floor, in a corner of the kitchen. His head was resting on his knees and his arms tightly hugged his legs. To his friend, he painfully remembered the child in the cupboard.

"Harry, what happened?" Ron tried again, softly. The answer didn't come for a long time. But eventually, something seemed to snap behind Harry's empty eyes. And suddenly, he spoke.

"Me happened, Ron." He said flatly.

The redhead flinched at that, not expecting that explanation, not expecting that lost voice.

"It just happens that the entire world thinks it knows me. The good and trustworthy Gryffindor. People assume. They don't know a single fucking thing about me."

His friend reacted at that disconnected outburst with a confused look, but Harry didn't pay attention.

"Not even you," he added, instead.

Ron said nothing, waiting for Harry to continue.

"You and Hermione have been my friends for so long. You've always been on my side. Because of this, and for everything you did for me, I'll give you an advice and I pray you to take it. Don't trust me. Never again."

Ron blinked.

"But Harry..."

"How can you trust me if I don't trust myself? I've always been so sure of my integrity. I always knew what was the right thing to do. Just like with Voldemort. He was evil. I was good. I was meant to kill him. And I killed him. Period. No if, and, or buts. Only, things are never simple. We manage to convince ourselves that they are so we can sleep better."

"I don't understand you, Harry," Ron whispered, looking down at his shoes, tremendously reminiscent of his fifteen-old self.

"Ok, then. Take Draco. Malfoy. What do you think of him?" Harry said grimacing and for the first time lifting his eyes to meet Ron's.

His friend didn't answer. He was too focused on Harry's strange gaze.

"I'll tell you what you think. He's a bastard who made your life miserable for seven years. He's a Death Eater, deep inside. He's unable to show human feelings," Harry said, summing up Ron's opinion of the Slytherin.

His friend nodded slightly, not understanding where the conversation was going, but well aware that it was the only way to stop Harry from leaving.

"Now I'll tell you the truth. He's alone. He's desperate. And behind his cold façade, he's so human that it hurts," the black-haired man said in a whisper.

Ron looked at him, confused. And Harry smiled softly, dreamily.

"Do you wonder how I know this? I looked into his eyes. He was crying," Harry continued, looking at his hands, still stained with blood. "I made him cry. "

"I wanted to break him so badly that I hit him, again, and again, with fists and words, until he cried."

The redhead swallowed hard. Ron thought for a moment that he did know his friend anymore. How could thy have drifted so far apart? He knew how secretive Harry could be, but he never thought that he had kept so much of himself hidden. The silence was shattered, suddenly.

"Draco cries silently," Harry stated seriously, turning his head towards the window of Ron's kitchen that showed a grey wet sky. "Like this rain. Not thunders. No words. Only tears."

Harry sighed and Ron shifted his weight on his legs, uneasily.

"All these years we could have known him if only we would have looked in his eyes. But we didn't. We preferred to assume. Well, tonight I did it. I looked into his eyes. And together with his pain, I saw something else there. Someone else. Myself. I couldn't recognize me. I didn't want to. And I ran."

A heavy silence followed again until Harry interrupted it.

"Do you know what's the irony in all this, Ron? He trusted me. And I knew it. Just as I know you trust me. Now think about it. And then, please, rethink about us."

"Malfoy... Draco, wake up..."

The wizard was very still on that bed. Hermione was shaking him lightly, unsure of where put her hands, to avoid further damage.

Draco was a mess. His naked body was almost completely covered in dry blood. And where it wasn't, nasty bruises where quickly appearing.

Hermione tried to stay calm, but was not very successful. The blond seemed dead. Only the slight movement of his chest let her know he was breathing. But he had to be treated quickly.

"Come on, Draco... Wake up, please..." she said, her voice showing the fear she was trying to contain.

Suddenly the Slytherin opened his eyes. Hermione sighed in relief.

"Draco?" She called.

"No."

Hermione blinked.

"Please no. Harry, please don't..."

And Hermione froze. Harry?

She wasn't so stupid that she had not considered that possibility, but still she refused to believe that her best friend could have done that. Finally, she decided that she would deal with the consequences of this revelation, later. She placed a hand on Draco's forehead softly, frowning as she felt the skin burning under her touch.

"Shhh... It's me, Hermione. Don't worry, I just want to help you," she said, calmly, working on the ropes that bound Draco.

After a while she noticed that he was looking at her astonished. He seemed to have focused on reality again.

"Granger," he said pushing himself up. He reached for the sheet and wrapped it around his body, trembling helplessly.

"I... I'm fine... I just have to..." Draco trailed before his eyes went wide and he placed a hand on his mouth. He got up quickly and, even if threatening to fall at every step, quickly reached for the bathroom. Hermione followed him and arrived just in time to see him empty his stomach in the washbasin.

"Oh my God!”

Draco had just vomited a good amount of blood. Trying to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, he looked at her questioningly.

"From your reaction I suppose that this isn't a good sign," he stated, before losing his balance completely.

Hermione reached him just in time to prevent him from falling on the floor. He had lost consciousness once more. Muttering curses, she lay him down gently and went collecting her wand. She entered the bathroom again and moved towards the tub. Quickly she turned the knob, filling it with cold water. As soon as the tub was half filled, she immerged the tip of her wand in the water and muttered a spell she had learned at a mediwizard training course and silently prayed for it to work.

And it worked, because the water began to smoke and turned into a turquoise shade. Then, she magically lifted Draco's unconscious body and carefully let it sink in the tub. The water went immediately red and began to boil madly.

Come on... Come on...

Hermione looked at the water, gripping her wand so tightly that it almost snapped. Finally, the boiling stopped and the colour of the water became a brilliant green. The witch sighed in relief, knowing that Draco was out of life danger. She leaned towards him, and slowly began to wash his wounds. For a while, she wasn't aware of the silver gaze observing her movements.

"Why are you doing this?"

Hermione flinched at the unexpected question and turned to face the silvery eyes.

"You were dying."

"I know that, but I didn't think you cared," he said simply.

Hermione didn't answer and kept attending silently to Draco's wounds.

"These will take a while to heal, but they won't scar. The spell mostly heals one’s internal wounds, since those are usually the most dangerous," she explained, trying to avoid more important and hurtful subjects.

"I didn't know you were a mediwizard."

"I took the specialization after Hogwarts, but I've never used it. Actually, I'm a journalist," she said.

"Well, you have certainly used it, now, and the results seem pretty good to me."

Hermione arched an eyebrow at that sudden show of trust.

"You've changed."

"Many things change," he answered cryptically.

They didn't talk for a while, only the splashing of the water disturbed the strange silence. Hermione washed Draco's silky hair carefully, paying attention to the deep cut that it hid.

"It was Harry," she said suddenly.

Draco flinched. It wasn't a question, but a statement and he could do nothing but avert her interrogative gaze.

"I know it was him," Hermione continued calmly. "He apparated at Ron's house this morning. He was covered in blood. Your blood, I suppose."

Again, Draco didn't answer, obstinately keeping his gaze on the wall in front of him.

"What happened, Draco?" she asked softly, finally releasing him.

Silently, Draco stepped out from the tub. He reached for a towel and wrapped it loosely around his waist.

Hermione sighed, following him back into the bedroom. Draco was staring, astonished, at the sheets. They looked like a modern art painting, his blood providing the paint, which created amorphous shapes.

"Draco... Why don't you want to talk about it?"

"Because there's nothing to say," he snapped. "Just like isn’t anything that can be done, Hermione," he added softly, after a while.

Hermione narrowed her eyes before exploding.

"The hell! You are not going to stay here with him. I can't allow him to do something like this again, for his own sake. Because right now, I don't know what I am capable to do to him!" She said, angrily.

Draco shook his head helplessly.

"You don't understand. It isn't like he won't let me go. It's me. I don't want to go."

Hermione's jaw fell slightly at the honest confession.

"Well, in this case," she began softly, "we'll need to contact a psychiatrist. A good one. You seem to be a wonderful case of Stockholm syndrome."

Draco began to laugh, hysterically. He laughed so hard that he had to sit down on the floor. Hermione looked at him astonished.

"That... that was good," he managed to say as he regained his breath. "But, unfortunately, the Stockholm syndrome isn't my problem. My disease is called love. Do you really think that a psychiatrist could make me stop loving Harry?"

The witch blinked, her astonishment even stronger than before.

"No..." She tried, unable to give voice to her thoughts.

"Oh, yes. I took a while to realize it but, yes, I fucking love him," he said, smiling softly, a true smile, something that Hermione had never seen before. "I hate myself for being so, damn stupid I tell you, but again, there's nothing I can do about it."

Draco paused as Hermione knelt near him and embraced him softly, as an old friend.

"There's no cure for this, isn't there?" He whispered, defeated.

Hermione couldn't help the tears running down her cheeks. Suddenly, she felt Draco's hands cupping her face and lifting it until she met his shining grey gaze.

"Don't cry."

The wizard leaned towards her and kissed away her tears and her sorrow.

"Draco, are you sure about this? There are so many things you don't know," she said suddenly, her voice trembling.

He frowned, looking at her frightened gaze.

"Have you... have you ever wondered why he's doing all this?" Hermione insisted.

Draco blinked, observing her soft features.

"What do you know, Hermione?" he asked, deadly serious.

"Nothing that you don't know. It's just that you don't remember. You can't remember," she corrected herself, getting up and beginning to pace the room nervously, rolling her wand between her fingers.

He observed her for a while, before speaking. "What should I remember?" Draco asked, calmly.

Hermione flinched and looked away, quickly. Too quickly. "I don't think it's a good idea," she murmured.

Draco sighed, getting up from the floor and approaching her slowly.

"But it is your only idea, isn't it?" he asked softly.

Hermione nodded, still looking away.

"Hermione, listen. Things change. We change. It's an unstoppable process. It's human. Don't be afraid to make mistakes, because that’s human, too."

She looked at him, torn between fear and hope.

"It could be painful. Not physically, I mean... You could be disappointed with yourself, after. Do you still want to remember?" Hermione asked, again.

Draco nodded and she could see the certainty in his gaze. It was then that she made her choose.

"Very well. You'd better lie down," she murmured.

Draco followed her advice and once settled on the bed, he looked at her interrogatively. He saw her sighing and pointing her wand at him. The last thing he heard was two simple, well-known words.

"Finite incantatem."

Go to next part.

people have been to this page since August 18, 2002.  
Part 15: Finite Incantatem  
The waiting seems eternity  
The day will dawn of sanity  
Is this a kind of magic?  
It's a kind of magic  
There can be only one  
This rage that lasts a thousand years  
Will soon be done

"It's A Kind of Magic", Queen

"Glad you came, Malfoy."

The Slytherin hid a flinch and looked around, trying to localize the source of the voice. He scanned the old, dusty classroom. For a while, he wondered if it was true or if he had just imagined the voice. But just then, a figure materialized in front of him. Draco blinked. Then, he shook his head tiredly. Harry Potter was in front of him, wearing the black Hogwarts robe, with his Prefect badge shining lightly and laughing softly.

"Did I scare you?" The dark-haired boy asked after a while, his green eyes sparkling in the darkness.

"Still stuck on your childish games, Potter?" Draco asked, sarcastically, reaching for something lying on the floor at Harry's feet. A light shining fabric, an invisibility cloak.

As soon as Draco felt it under his fingers, his lips twisted in a sneer.

"Always hiding behind this cloak," his voice drawled. "Have you ever considered this is the first sign of unsatisfied voyeuristic tendencies?"

Harry simply smirked at the remark.

"Actually I had, and then I concluded that you could have liked the idea. Being watched secretly while you're fulfilling to your dirtiest fantasies..."

"Yeah, I could. But I need you here for them to work," he said, smirking meaningfully.

Harry laughed. And that sound was so perfect. The young Slytherin felt his head lighter for a while.

"Well, but I'm here now, am I not?" Harry said suddenly, his voice low and teasing. He took a step towards Draco.

And another. Now Harry was right in front of him, and the blond watched his Seeker's hands moving to reach his robe.

Harry's hands moved on the black fabric. And then up, around his neck. After a while Harry drew back holding a green and silver scarf. A Slytherin scarf.

Draco had just the time to raise a delicate eyebrow questioningly when Harry's soft mouth claimed [for] his neck, gently biting his skin, then sucking it softly and teasingly. Something like a low growl escaped from the back of the Slytherin throat.

When Harry released him, he locked his green eyes with Draco's grey ones.

If he stare at me this way for too long I'll burn, the fair-haired boy thought unwillingly, while he observed the other boy slowly getting himself free from his robe, which lay abandoned on the dusty floor.

Harry was now in a loose jumper and in a pair of old jeans, too big for him.

This time it was Draco who attacked, his hands claiming the boy-who-lived's body hungrily, touching, caressing, teasing. Harry moaned as pale slender fingers brushed against his hard-on. Draco began to unzip Harry's trousers.

"Mal... foy..." Harry whispered, while Draco's hand had found its way into Harry's jeans until wrapping around his hard cock, possessively.

The Slytherin continued stroking his lover, whose legs lost their steadiness. Harry leaned against Draco's, abandoning himself into an hungry embrace.

Draco's lips teased Harry's earlobe, the sensitive skin of his neck, and his skilled ministrations were rewarded by light, appreciative moans.

"My, my Potter... It almost looks like you're in pain... And maybe you are. Do you want me to stop?"

"No... Don't - ever - stop..." Harry said, breathing hardly.

Draco grinned at that unconscious statement of his power. He played with Harry a little more until the black-haired boy pushed himself away.

Slowly, the Gryffindor sank on his knees, and Draco felt his hands climbing up to his legs, until reaching the front of his trousers, where they indulged opening the zipper and teasingly brushing his own hard-on.

After a while, Harry freed Draco’s cock from his expensive trousers and stood still, looking at it. Draco sighed, waiting, until the Gryffindor's lips began to place feathery kisses on his dick.

Harry was a teaser. But Draco didn't complain, because he knew what was coming next.

Harry's tongue began to run on his throbbing cock, leaving wet burning trails of pleasure. Draco shivered, looking down at Harry, getting drunk at the sight of the golden boy on his knees in front of him. 

Suddenly, Harry parted his lips, taking the tip of Draco's cock in his mouth, slowly, painfully slowly. Then he stopped and Draco closed his eyes, hissing. He knew what he had to do now.

"Potter... please..." he whispered. He could tell that his lover was smiling inwardly at the show of weakness, but he didn't care, as long as that intoxicatingly wet warmness continued to surround him.

Harry began to move on Draco's cock, his tongue running on it, his mouth wrapped around it hungrily. Draco moaned and unconsciously let his hand reach for Harry's head. He pushed his fingers through his dark hair, softly, gently, stroking it as Harry stroked him.

The Gryffindor took him unbearably near the edge. Draco threw his head back as Harry ran his mouth on his cock, taking it deeply into that soft warmness.

And suddenly it finished. Draco sighed in frustration and meet Harry's eyes, looking at him defiantly.

"Not this way, Malfoy."

The Slytherin raised an eyebrow while Harry got up and came closer to him, placing a hand on his cock and stroking it slowly.

"No?" Draco questioned, trying hard to maintain his voice firm.

"No," Harry whispered, his warm breath tickling his ear. "I'd prefer if you fucked me, Malfoy."

Draco closed his eyes, momentarily overwhelmed by the sensations Harry was giving him with his hand, his voice, his simply being there with his body pressed against his.

"Do you think it could be possible?"

"Mmm..." The Slytherin murmured simply, pushing Harry slightly away. The Gryffindor looked at him questioningly.

Draco grinned.

"Take your clothes off, Potter."

Harry smirked and began to undress himself completely, slowly, under Draco's hungry look.

Then, with a fluidity none would have expected from him, the Gryffindor lay down on his clothes, comfortable in his glorious nudity.

Draco let his eyes travel on that slender body offered on that dusty floor of an old classroom, while he quickly took away his own clothes.

He hesitated a bit more, painfully excited but still strangely enchanted by the sense of discovery he felt each time he looked at that dark side of Hogwarts’ golden boy. He could bet his family's fortune that nobody could imagine, not even in their wildest fantasies, what Harry could be able to do if left alone with him for more than five minutes.

"What are you waiting for, Malfoy? Come and take me before I take you." Harry teased smirking.

Draco was more than inclined to take the advice.

Or the adviser, he considered, lying down near the young Gryffindor, letting his hands free to explore Harry's body, to touch all the places he knew that would drive him crazy.

The black-haired boy began to moan under Draco's ministrations. The Slytherin claimed his mouth, suffocating those sounds of pleasure while his hand stroked Harry's cock incessantly. He licked the soft lips and violated the wet warmness of Harry's mouth, savouring its sweetness and a slight trace of his own salty taste.

Draco felt painfully excited and he could tell that Harry was near the edge too. Suddenly he broke their hungry kiss and looked down at those perfect red lips.

"Malfoy - I -" Harry faltered.

"Shh..." Draco said, smirking and brushing two fingers on Harry's lips. Without a second thought, the Gryffindor took them in his mouth, sucking them slowly while the Slytherin continued stroking his throbbing cock.

Finally Harry released Draco's fingers.

"Come on, Draco... " he almost pleaded, and the fair-haired boy felt a wave of pleasure sweep through his body when he heard the way his name came out of that mouth. He knew that if Harry had shifted on a first name basis, it meant that he was about to lose his mind.

That was what Draco was waiting for. Somebody who longed for him with every cell of his body.

Because the only thing that Draco desperately needed was somebody who needed him.

And strangely, Harry Potter was perfect for this, because in the few moments they shared, he needed the pale Slytherin in a way that nobody had before. And even if Draco would never admit it, not even to himself, in those same moments, he would have done anything to satisfy Harry's need, in order to finally reach the only thing he had always lacked.

A reason, a reason to live.

So Draco pushed his fingers inside Harry, slowly, cautiously, moving them until the black-haired boy released his tension and moaned again.

"Draco... Now... I need to feel you... I need you..." Harry pleaded.

As soon as those words sank into Draco's brain, the Slytherin felt something burning furiously inside himself, something crying in every fibre of his being.

He was well aware that the only way to find his peace was to answer Harry's prayer.

And he did it.

Harry cried as Draco's cock slid into his tight warmness. The Slytherin stood still for a while, savouring the sensation of melting into that body. Then, he began to move again, looking down at Harry, not once tearing his gaze from those unfocussed green eyes, the only thing that he believe would have kept him there in those moments, preventing him to lose himself forever into the warmness, the pleasure and the feeling.

He leaned down, claiming once again Harry's lips, while his fingers played absently into that dark hair. Their mouths slightly suffocated their moans. But eventually, when the pleasure overwhelmed them, there was nothing that could prevent them to scream each other's name.

"God, Draco... I love you."

The fair-haired boy froze. He lay on his back, with Harry at his side, waiting for that inevitable dizziness to disappear. Slowly, he turned towards the Gryffindor. He couldn't see Harry's face, because Harry was lying on his side, but from his stillness and the slow motion of his chest, Draco could tell that the black-haired boy was sleeping.

Draco sighed, concluding that probably he simply imagined hearing those words. But his relief lasted only for a moment, because suddenly Harry was looking at him, with his eyes very green and very awake. And when his red lips opened, the words that left his mouth were, in Draco's opinion, simply shocking.

"Did you hear me, Malfoy?"

Draco was caught out off balance for a while, but finally, he narrowed his grey eyes and answered Harry's question.

"Yes, I heard you. But I'll pretend I didn't," he stated coldly.

Harry didn't seem to be affected by such a remark. He simply raised an eyebrow interrogatively.

"And what could pretending possibly change?" The Gryffindor asked calmly.

Draco frowned and got up, quickly dressing again without answering. Harry observed him for a while before following his example. The black-haired boy was putting on his shoes when Draco spoke again.

"I don't love you, Potter." He stated, as if he was giving him a notion of general knowledge, something like 'The Earth is Spherical'.

"I understand," Harry said, not touched at all from that piece of information. "But I didn't ask you if you love me. And I'll never ask you to love me back. I'm not that stupid," he said smirking. "I was simply stating the truth. I love you. Period. There's nothing you can do about it. And there's nothing I want you to do about it."

Harry got up, with a slight smile on his lips that made Draco's frown deepen.

"I just wanted to be sincere. I think it's a Gryffindor trademark. Sorry, but I can't help it," he said, grinning. "What's wrong, now?" he asked after a while, looking interrogatively at the frozen Slytherin in front of him.

"What's wrong, Potter? Everything," Draco hissed, furiously. "You can't fall in love with me. For God's sake! You are Harry fucking Potter! And I..." The Slytherin looked away for a while, trying to formulate the right words. "As soon as the term will be finished, I'll be a Death Eater. This is what's wrong."

Harry looked at him thoughtfully for a while.

"You don't have to be a Death Eater if you don't want to," he stated.

Draco shook his head laughing.

"And who said I don't want to? Anyway this isn't the matter. It's just that we... We're wrong," he finished, passing a hand nervously through his hair, no longer gelled since Harry told him he was sexier when he let it fall freely around his face.

"Maybe you're wrong, Draco," Harry said, and the Slytherin flinched at the way he had used his first name. "I'm asking nothing of you. I don't expect you to change or anything. It's just... I love you."

"Shut up!" Draco cried, losing his control for a while. Harry looked at him, blinking. An angry Malfoy was a rare occurrence.

"You... What will you do out there?" The Slytherin asked after a while. "We were enemies. We are enemies. The shagging part means nothing. And we will be enemies out there. I'll be after your blood, Potter. What will you do then?" Draco said, defiantly waiting for the only possible answer. The answer that never came.

"Nothing." Harry said calmly.

"Nothing?" Draco asked, bewildered.

The Gryffindor sighed before explaining his strange answer.

"I'll do nothing. You can be my enemy, but I'm not yours."

Draco shook his head, defeated.

"Potter... I'll kill you."

"Yeah, probably you will," Harry considered out loud and Draco looked at him astonished.

"You aren't thinking."

"Oh, no. I've been thinking about it too much. I know what my duties are. But I can sincerely tell you that I don't give a damn about them anymore. There will surely be a way to save the world that doesn't involve me, so I don't see the problem in giving in."

"Your friends... Have you considered them?"

Harry nodded.

"They'll suffer. But they'll go on, eventually," he stated, sighing. "You know what, Draco? I thought I could save you from being a Death Eater. That's how everything really began. But then, knowing you changed my opinion. And in the end, it's you who are saving me from being Harry fucking Potter," Harry said, smiling sadly.

Draco stepped back, horrified.

"Don't you see what love is doing to you? You're completely out of your mind!"

"Yeah, you're right. But I've never felt so damn alive, despite my name..." Harry said, grinning slightly.

"I can't let you do this." Draco said, deadly serious.

"Whatever..." Harry said tiredly, reaching for his invisibility cloak. "But I think there's nothing you can do about it," he said before disappearing.

There's nothing you can do about it.

That thought stuck in Draco's mind for days and nights until a sudden idea had come up, unexpectedly. So, now, Draco was running towards the library. He spotted what he was looking for in a dark corner of the room. But it wasn't a book. Slowly, he approached a desk and with a low drawl he spoke.

"Granger."

The young witch raised her head from the book she was hungrily reading, and her expression, as soon as it focused on the pale figure in front of her, became suspicious.

"Malfoy. What do you want?"

"To talk."

She raised an eyebrow, interrogatively.

"And since when the two of us have friendly chats?"

"Since your idiot of a friend fell in love with me." Draco drawled tiredly.

"My friend?" Hermione asked slightly surprised.

"Potter."

Now the witch was really surprised, so she closed her book with a loud thud and quickly followed the Slytherin out of the library with a concerned expression on her face.

"I don't believe you."

"But you'll believe Potter. Ask him."

Hermione evaluated the information she had. She knew that Harry was after the "wanna-be-death-eater" with redemption thoughts. She suspected that the sort of relationship he had claimed to have with the Slytherin wasn't a simple friendship but...

Being in love with Draco Malfoy! Harry's an idiot. And this means he's really in love. Fuck.

"Alright. So you are suggesting to perform a memory charm on him to make him forget he loves you, aren't you?"

Draco nodded, shortly. Hermione frowned.

"Why..." she began, but she interrupted abruptly.

Why are you doing this? The witch originally wanted to ask. Draco could have taken advantage of Harry's weakness and given him to the Dark Lord as a present for joining the Death Eater's ranks, earning You-Know-Who's favour.

So why is he trying to give Harry this chance? Hermione wondered. And being the intelligent witch she was, the answer jumped in front of her eyes with stunning evidence.

Because maybe, even if he would never admit it, he... she cut her thoughts. There wasn't time to consider Draco's feelings. Nor Harry's. There was a war out there, and everybody was expected to play his role. Even Harry. Especially Harry.

Something deep inside her heart struggled against that cold reasoning and she almost felt the urge to wake up Draco. But eventually she came to her senses and quickly changed her question.

"Why don't you perform the spell by yourself?"

Draco blinked.

"I... I can't."

That was only one more point in favour of her theory and for a while she felt a pang of guilt exploiting the Slytherin's stubborn denial. But again, her reason won over her feelings.

"Well, I don't know if I can do it..."

"Granger. Please." Draco said, trying to hide his effort.

Hermione looked at him for a while, stunned.

Draco Malfoy saying *please* to me? The Mudblood? Today it's the day of wonders, she thought. Then, slowly, Hermione nodded, and, after a while, she and Draco shook their hands, confused.

"Malfoy... Draco. You've been avoiding me. Why?" Harry asked, calmly.

Draco had turned his back on him. They were again in that old classroom. But the mood was different.

"I needed time to think about the whole situation," he said, without turning.

"I see. And did you came to any conclusion?" Harry continued.

"Yeah."

"Yeah? What do you mean?"

"This." Draco said suddenly turning, his wand pointed directly at Harry's chest.

The Gryffindor didn't flinch. He kept his calm green eyes on Draco, looking at him interrogatively.

"Should I suppose that you decided to anticipate the killing part?" The Gryffindor asked distractedly.

The Slytherin shook his head.

"No. There won't be a killing part. Or at least not as you intended it, because you're going to fight out there," Draco said.

Harry looked at him for a while before laughing softly.

"You could be a Gryffindor for being so stubborn. I've told you I won't fight you. Never." Harry said, his eyes burning dangerously.

But Draco was firm in his position.

"Oh, right... Because you love me, don't you?" He said mockingly. "Well, in a while we will have solved this little problem and everything will be back to normal."

The Gryffindor frowned.

"Normal? What is normal? What the fuck has ever been normal in my life? And how do you believe to solve my little problem? Threatening me?" Harry snapped, angry.

Uncaring of the wand pointed at him he took a step towards Draco. But the Slytherin reacted quickly. Harry had barely the time to hear him muttering something and he found himself crushed against the wall, unable to move from it.

"My, my Potter. I think that this Gryffindor bravery is only a show of stupidity."

"Draco... Let me go."

"Sure. I'll let you go, after," the Slytherin drawled, playing with the wand in his hands.

"After what?" Harry growled.

"After we'll have solved our problem. Your problem. You'll see, you'll feel better, maybe a bit confused, but you won't remember anything of our last friendly chat. Just like you won't remember anything else about us," Draco explained calmly.

Finally when he raised his cold gaze, he met Harry's, desperate in understanding.

"No... Please, don't do it. You can't do this to me," he whispered.

Draco felt something freeze in his chest at that prayer. But he pushed away the sensation and sneered.

"And why shouldn't I?" He asked, coming closer to the Gryffindor, until placing a hand on the wall near Harry's head and leaning against it.

"It's the only thing I care for. I live for. Please don't take it away from me." Harry said and Draco smirked.

He felt in control now, he felt stronger and firm and he could deal with his screaming mind.

"It's good to hear you beg, Potter. You're so pathetic that there's no fun in hurting you," he drawled softly against Harry's ear.

The Gryffindor shivered.

"Draco... Draco, please. I... I'll do anything. But, please. Please don't do it," Harry whispered, desperate as he looked into Draco's eyes.

Because there wasn't mercy there.

Draco said nothing and Harry lowered his gaze to the floor, defeated. He didn't hear the door opening and closing softly. But he heard Draco's voice.

"Come on, Harry. It's time to leave everything behind," he said, smirking. Then, he looked down at Harry and his smirk became a sad smile.

"One last kiss?" he asked softly.

Harry raised his gaze on him, and Draco didn't need answer, because those green oceans said everything.

Slowly, he brushed his lips against Harry's, and softly entered that sweet mouth for the last time, gently caressing it. That kiss was a last goodbye, and both knew it, even if they reacted in different ways. Draco parted, slowly, blinking, because something irreparable had happened, something for which it was too late.

And as he looked down at Harry, he saw shining trails staining his cheeks. Draco's heart stopped for a while until Harry's sad smile squeezed it painfully.

"Do you know that after this I'll never love again?"

It wasn't a question, but a statement. The Slytherin blinked and with some effort, he tore himself from Harry. Then, turning to the empty room, he spoke.

"Do it," he said to nobody apparently.

He didn't looked at Harry when the spell it him. He only heard a soft thud that told him the Gryffindor had slumped at the floor.

I'm sorry, Harry, he thought, but he didn't say it. Instead he spoke to Hermione who had just removed the invisibility cloak that Draco had gave her.

"It worked," she said softly.

Draco nodded, without turning.

"Now do it again. Please."

Hermione blinked, astonished. The silence lasted a few seconds, but it seemed an eternity. Then, Draco spoke again.

"Thank you, Granger," he said softly.

And she raised her wand.

Go to next part.

people have been to this page since August 18, 2002.  
Part 16: Difficult Decisions  
The narrowest path  
Is always the holiest  
So walk on barefoot for me  
Suffer some misery  
If you want my love  
If you want my love

Man will survive  
The harshest conditions  
And stay alive  
Through difficult decisions  
So make up your mind for me  
Walk the line for me  
If you want my love  
If you want my love

"Judas", Depeche Mode

It was like drowning in deep dark waters, and then, just when you had lost every hope, being pulled up again, towards the light. The light in which Draco blinked trying to focus on the surroundings.

"What?" He wondered aloud, while struggling to get up.

"Stay down. You're still too weak," a voice said calmly.

Draco sighed, lying back.

"Granger. I must have fallen asleep," he stated, tiredly, closing his eyes, missing the witch's strange expression.

"And what did you dream?" Hermione asked after a while.

"Stuff. My seventh year..."

Harry...

God, Draco... I love you.

Please, don't do it...

Draco's eyes snapped open and he looked at Hermione, worriedly.

"Granger... Hermione. It was a dream, wasn't it?" he murmured, unsure.

The witch's answer was a very sad expression.

"Fuck!" He snapped, finally getting up.

Hermione flinched, coming out of her reverie. Malfoy, swearing? Finally she sighed, tired, knowing that explanations were in order.

"As I believe you understand, you weren't dreaming. I removed the memory charm I cast back then. And for this reason, you quickly regained your lost memories. It works as a dream, but if you think about your seventh year, now, you'll remember exactly what you think you were dreaming," she said, calmly.

Draco stopped to look at her. He was pacing in the room, confused.

"Wait. You're telling me that I really did that? To him?"

Hermione sighed and looked at him, seriously.

"Yeah, we really did that. To him."

Draco seemed to consider that information carefully.

"I want my cigarettes. And then I want to talk. There are some things I don't understand," he murmured, disappearing behind Harry's door.

Hermione shook her head. There were many things that she didn't understand either. She could only suppose. But the truth was bigger than it seemed. And the guilt unbearable. Draco came back after a while. He looked at the witch worriedly. Hermione seemed so tired. He placed a hand on her shoulder, gently.

"Come on. It's time to talk," he said, forcing a smile.

Hermione answered attempt weakly, "And since when the two of us have friendly chats?"

"Since this idiot fell in love with your friend."

They looked at each other for a while. And strangely, they began to laugh softly.

"Well, I must admit that for a while I panicked."

"Yeah, but the Queen of Reason came back to her duties in the end..."

Hermione nodded softly.

"You can say that again. I covered Harry's body with his invisibility cloak and transported him to our dormitory. I put him in his bed. Then, I came back and took you into Snape's classroom. Everybody knew that you spent some of your nights there. I left your invisibility cloak with you and I came back to the Gryffindor Tower with Harry's. The next morning Harry woke up as usual. We went to breakfast and I looked at you. You seemed normal, just like Harry. And life went on as usual until the end of the term."

Draco nodded slowly and Hermione sighed before continuing.

"Well, almost as usual. Since that night I had to cope with a sense of guilt that still hasn't left me. And then, if you talked to Ron, he would tell you that there was something strange in those last days of the year. Every time you and Harry met, I could feel the strength of the memory charm vacillate. I remember how you two looked at each other. There were no more fights. It seemed that you were always about to say something. That's why I was always around. When I performed the spell I wasn't a completely trained witch and I knew that if you and Harry would have spent enough time together, there would have been... complications," she stated, quickly tearing her gaze from Draco's bruised body.

"But for careful I could be, there was nothing that I could do to hide the truth. Harry changed. And he didn't lie when he said that he wouldn't have loved again. Since the end of the term he had always been alone. As soon as somebody tried to get closer to him, he pushed him away. Since that night, I've never seen him really smiling. He's good in pretending, but if you look into his eyes, you'll find an infinitive sadness that he tries his best to hide with his incomprehensible anger."

The Slytherin looked at her for a while. Then he took a cigarette and lightened it. He smoked silently for a while before speaking.

"You know, actually, memory charms don't erase your memory. They cover it, with fake recollections, so basically, the truth is always there, trapped in your head, even if you can remember it," he explained, sighing.

"This is the reason why I made certain decisions in my life instead of others. I think that Harry's influence was always there. So, in the end, I didn't became a Death Eater, just as he wanted. When I had to face my father, I simply knew that there was something wrong. That I couldn't join Voldemort. So I left. And since then, I had the sensation that magic had messed up my life. I've never used my wand again, even when it could have saved me a lot of troubles," he stated, brushing his hair away from his eyes.

"Probably it was the hidden memory of having hurt Harry with the help of magic," Hermione guessed. "I really don't know. But when I saw you and Harry together, at the award's night... I was about to faint. I knew that it was dangerous. Your closeness would have shattered the memory charm. Or at least it would have caused several adverse reactions," she said softly. "I guessed right, didn't I?"

Draco grimaced at that.

"Well," he said after a while, "I think that being everyday together... Sharing his bed... It must have woken up Harry's subconscious. Now I know that we had an unfinished business. We left each other in hate and pain. Or at least that's how I made him leave me. That's the reason of his apparently unmotivated rage and anger," the fair-haired man said, looking away.

"And that's the reason why I can't blame him," he added finally.

Hermione blinked, and then she shook her head.

"You may be right Draco. Maybe it isn't his fault. But the fact is that he’s still under the charm. He still doesn't remember. Presumably he only feels that he has to hate you because of what happened, but he doesn't know why. I think it's dangerous for you two to stay together. Especially for you. So, please, listen to me... You'll come to stay with me for a while and I'll remove the charm from Harry. He will understand..."

Draco looked at her for a while before answering.

"No," he said.

"No?" Hermione asked, puzzled.

"I don't want you to remove the spell from Harry."

"Why not?" The witch asked, nervously.

"Because at this point it would change nothing. And actually, it could make things worse, if possible. Just think about it. The person you loved the most hurt you. Your best friend betrayed you. Then you discover that you, the golden boy, the trustworthy Gryffindor, can be able to put a person through so much pain because you hate him, to cause so much pain for the person you once loved and that maybe you would still love, if only he had given you the chance," he said grimacing. Then, Draco looked at Hermione, his grey eyes stormy and deep.

"How would you feel? And what would you do then?" He asked.

The witch didn't answer, because the truth was unbearable. Finally she sighed, defeated.

"What do you suggest then?" Hermione asked, confused.

"According to our agreement, I have less than a month to stay here. I'll respect the pact, and, at the end of the term, I'll get out of Harry's life," he said.

"But... And you? What about you? I mean you said..." she began, uncertain, but he cut her off.

"What I said it's truth," he said, grimacing. "I love him. But I think that things between us are destroyed. I destroyed them with no chance of amends back then. But if Harry won't remember, he won't get hurt. And with a bit of luck, sooner of later, I'll be able to forget him again" he stated, before looking at her sadly.

"For one last time, Hermione. Please. Help me."

Ron was looking at his friend sleeping on the couch. He had talked to Hermione hours ago and now he was worried. For her, and for Harry. He was thinking about what she told him last night, about Harry, Malfoy and their seventh years. It was unbelievable but yet, it was so painfully true.

He didn't know if Hermione planned to tell everything to Harry. Knowing how Harry had been cheated by his lover and his best friend, whatever his friend reaction would be, it would not have a positive impact on their friendship.

As much as he was scared by the darkness that Harry had showed to him talking about what he had done to Malfoy, he still cared for his friend. And that was the worst. Ron was still lost in his thoughts when the doorbell rang. He barely noticed Harry stirring on the couch before going to open.

It was Hermione. The redhead looked at her worriedly. She was a mess. Her shirt was stained with blood, her hair fell in sticky locks on her face, her make-up was matted with tears and sweat.

"Hermione what...?" he began but she cut him off.

"Later, Ron. Where is he?" she asked, trying to maintain a bit of calmness.

"I'm here."

Ron flinched and turned towards his friend. Harry was looking at Hermione blankly but she said nothing. The witch moved towards the bathroom without a word and she reappeared only ten minutes later.

Harry was sitting on a chair in the kitchen where Ron, feeling completely out of place, was preparing some coffee. He had just placed a mug of it in front of Harry when Hermione came back. She sat in front of the dark-haired man and looked at him.

"Harry?" She asked after a while, and her voice was a cold blade.

The wizard didn't answer. He clutched he cup in his hands, staring at the hot dark liquid in it.

"How is he?"

"He's alive."

Ron observed the scene silently, hardly breathing. He could feel sparkle of electricity filling his kitchen and he could tell that Hermione was about to explode, since Harry's disinterested behaviour wasn't helping to calm her down.

"Good," the dark-haired wizard stated, after a while.

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Good? That's all you can say?" She asked, her voice trembling in rage. Harry raised his gaze on her but said nothing.

"He was dying, Harry. You left him there. Tied up. With internal bleeding, Harry. If I had arrived a little later, you wouldn't find Draco Malfoy warming your bed tonight. You would find a corpse."

The dark-haired wizard sighed before speaking.

"Thank you."

Hermione blinked. And as the meaning of those words sank in her brain, she got up and slapped him on a cheek.

"I didn't do that for you. I did it for him. He deserves better than that. He deserves better than you. Because he is better than you," she said, deadly calm, looking as the shape of her hand quickly appeared on Harry's cheek with a red tinge.

"I know," he whispered after a while. "Just like I know that there's nothing I can do now. Well, I could say I'm sorry, because god knows if I am. But what would it change? Nothing, because I don't even deserve him listening to my useless apologies. What do you want me to say, Hermione? What can I say, now?" Harry asked, defeated.

She looked at him coldly.

"I won't give you the answers this time. You can just suffer for all I care.” After she looked at the surprised expression on Harry’s face, she added, “You didn't really think that you could make things right so easily, did you?"

Harry was still looking at her. Hermione could see such a deep sadness in those green eyes, that for a while she thought she was drowning. Finally she sighed, tiredly.

"Go to him. Against all reason, he's waiting for you. He said he would stay as you two agreed at the beginning. But Harry, I'll tell you something and I'll tell you once. Pay attention. Don't make me lose a friend."

At that Harry got up. He looked at both his friends sadly.

"Thank you," he whispered, before raising his wand and disapparating.

Ron and Hermione stood still and silent for a while. Then, suddenly, the witch collapsed, falling on her knees, crying. Ron rushed towards her and took her in his arms, gently.

"Shh... You'll see, everything's going to be alright," he said, trying hard to believe his own words.

Harry apparated in his living room. Everything was as he had left it the night before. Trying not to become consumed by the blood he could see on the wall and on the floor, he slowly stepped towards his room.

The door was left ajar and cautiously he pushed it open. The room was in a half-darkness, but still, with the light coming from the corridor, Harry could see the body lying still on his bed.

The dark-haired wizard forgot to breathe as he approached the figure, slowly. When he was near the bed, Harry panicked. For a while he thought that Hermione had lied to him. Draco's eyes were closed, his skin was so pale behind all the bruises and the cuts, and his body was so damn still.

Harry was trying to deal with the fact that blond could actually be dead, when he saw Draco’s chest moving, imperceptibly. The dark-haired wizard stared as hypnotized at that little movement.

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down.

Draco was alive, after all.

Harry blinked, feeling relief filling his chest. And then he looked down at the sleeping form. He tried to understand how he had felt when he had thought, even if for an instant, that Draco could be actually dead.

Pain, something in his head answered for him. Pain filling every cell of your body. Pain stuffed down your throat, making you suffocate in your own screams. Pain burning your brain, not allowing a single coherent thought. Pain squeezing your heart until it bleeds, cutting your nerves, breaking your bones, blinding your eyes. Simple terrifying pain that would have taken you to madness or death.

Or maybe both.

But it's understandable, considered your feelings for him, isn't it, Harry?

Harry?

Are you still there, dear?

Harry was still there, but he was too busy staring at Draco to hear the voices in his head. He was to busy playing few words in his mind while he drunk in the perfection of the sleeping man.

Considering my feelings...

Considering my feelings...

The answer was there, stuck in his mind. In his heart. In his soul.

Finally Harry knew it, but he couldn't voice it if not with a strangled cry that he let go, falling on his knees near the bed. He rested his head on Draco's chest, softly, muffling his grief and his crying against it, slowly wetting the sheets with his tears.

He was on the verge of losing his mind when he flinched, feeling a light touch on his head. Quickly he turned, facing trough a veil of tears and wet glasses the amazing grey eyes of Draco. Harry swallowed hardly, restraining his crying while he tried hard to understand that mercury unreadable gaze.

Draco was observing that scene slightly confused. Then suddenly, at Harry's trapped animal gaze, he smiled, softly.

Harry flinched. He kept looking at Draco without understanding, until the Slytherin raised a hand and brushed his fingers on Harry's tears stained cheeks.

"Why are you crying, Harry?"

Because I love you. Because I loved you all this time but I did this to you, Harry finally admitted to himself, but he could say nothing, because he couldn't stop his tears.

Draco sighed weakly.

"Come here," he said, softly.

Harry climbed on to the bed and lay down next to his lover. Draco took off his glasses and placed them on the bedside table while Harry carefully took him in his arms, hugging him gently, but with the desperation of a castaway.

They stayed so, one in the embrace of the other for a long time, saying nothing.

Draco kept listening to Harry's muffled sobs until they both drift into sleep.

Despite everything, the blond had never felt so protected.

And despite everything, Harry didn't remember of having ever felt that way before.

Of having ever been in love before.

Go to next part.

people have been to this page since August 18, 2002.  
Part 17: Old Memories  
Come as you are, as you were,  
As I want you to be  
As a friend, as a friend, as an old enemy,  
Take your time, hurry up  
The choice is yours, don't be late.

Take a rest, as a friend, as an old memory  
Memory

"Come As You Are", Nirvana

The first things Draco noticed as he opened his eyes the next morning were Harry's absence and a strange smell. Cautiously he got up, trying to minimize his dizziness. He was wearing only a pair of boxers but he didn't feel cold. Actually, he was enveloped by a strange warm and tingling sensation.

It took him several minutes and a look to his wounds to realize that it was an effect of Hermione spell. His cuts were all closed and his bruises had lost their violent purple shade in less than twenty-four hours. Draco realized that he would be completely fine in the next few days. He was still lost in his thoughts when he suddenly realized what was that smell.

Something is burning, he thought frowning, slowly reaching the kitchen. There he found Harry, so absorbed in preparing breakfast that he didn't realize that Draco had been staring at him for some time.

Harry had woken up early that morning and for the first time he hadn't felt the urge to run away from his bed and from the man who was sharing it with him. He lay awake for more than an hour, finally considering his feeling with calmness while observing Draco's sleep with guilt and worry.

He couldn't understand why Draco had been so kind towards him. He had acted as nothing had happened. As if Harry hadn't hurt him so much.

Harry didn't believe that Draco had already forgiven him. Actually, he was quite sure that there was no possibility of forgiveness for his behaviour. He knew that no matter how much time would pass, he would never be able to forgiven himself for what he had done. Then, how could Draco be so accepting?

Slowly Harry moved, not tearing his confused gaze from the pale sleeping form. His fingers reached for Draco's hair and touched it lightly, in a sort of frightened action that took with it a hidden sacredness.

Harry didn't know what would have been worst at this point. He almost would have preferred if the fair-haired man were angry with him. He had expected Draco to yell venomous words, to hit him, and to put him through the same pain he had gratuitously given to him.

Harry knew that would have happily suffered the pains of hell if Draco had wanted. And he was aware that in the end he could have been able to even ask for more, begging on his knees for the Slytherin to take his revenge.

But that peaceful silence and that forgiving embrace that he received instead... They were simply heartbreaking.

It was far worse than any punishment Harry could imagine. Well, maybe that was the way Draco intended to pay him back, and Harry couldn't do anything if not accepting it gratefully, silently bearing his pain fully, letting the shame enveloping him, drowning in his guilt, as he looked at that flawless skin wounded and bruised.

I don't deserve him. I don't deserve his arms around me. I don't deserve his soothing voice talking to me. Nor his clear eyes looking at me. Hell, I don't even deserve to cry for him, to feel guilty and sorry.

But I am. I am sorry, guilty and desperate. And well conscious that I'm not worthy redemption.

With those last thoughts, Harry got up from the bed. Draco was stirring in his sleep and soon he would have woken up, but Harry decided to let him sleep in peace a little more and he went to the kitchen.

And it was there that Draco had found him. The fair-haired man observed him for several minutes while he clumsily prepared breakfast.

Finally, Harry sensed a pair of grey eyes looking at him and he turned, facing Draco.

Harry blinked, letting go the cup of coffee he had in his hand. The mug crashed on the floor, but he barely noticed it because in the light of the morning sun that streamed through the kitchen window, the result of Harry's actions on Draco's body was even clearer, and that sight was shocking.

Harry felt the urge to cry again, babbling endlessly apologies, hugging carefully the hurt man in front of his eyes. But he restrained himself, because it was useless. Or simply selfish. Maybe it would make him feel better, but it wouldn't heal Draco's wounds. The wounds Harry had placed on his body and in his soul.

"Sorry, I scared you," Draco said after a while, looking at him cautiously. Harry flinched and quickly shook his head.

"No, don't worry... It's just that I'm not used to do this. I usually eat outside," the Gryffindor explained nervously.

Draco nodded slowly at that, and Harry looked away until the fair-haired man called him again.

"Harry?"

"Yes," he answered, confused.

"I think the toasts are burning," Draco said smirking.

"Fuck!"

Draco shook his head as his lover literally fought with the toaster. In the end, the little appliance was the winner, boasting two carbonised slices of bread and a cursing Harry Potter who held a burned hand under a cold water jet.

Draco began to laugh unwillingly. Harry turned around to look at him with astonishment. When the Slytherin man found his composure again, he apologised to Harry.

"Sorry, I didn't want to laugh at you. It's just that you are... a bit clumsy in the kitchen, you know?" Draco said, smirking.

Harry said nothing, but he just kept staring at his lover, his ears still ringing with Draco's crystalline laugh. The Slytherin raised an eyebrow at Harry's lack of response and moved towards him, slowly.

"Come on, let me see," Draco said, taking the injured hand in his. He examined Harry's burning, frowning.

"Don't worry, it's nothing," the Gryffindor said after a while.

"Mmm... Yeah, it's just a little reddened. But this will make it better..." he whispered, bringing Harry's hand to his lips and placing a feathery kiss on it.

A kiss that gave to Harry an electric shock. He withdrew his hand quickly, looking at Draco with wide eyes.

The blond frowned saying nothing, but Harry could easily read the hurt into those clear liquid eyes. The Gryffindor sighed deeply, looking away, searching for words.

"You don't have to be gentle with me. You don't even need to stay here anymore. I..." he trailed off. Harry had wanted to say he was sorry, but deep inside he knew that it would be the wrong thing to say.

"Go. Don't worry about our agreement. I consider it finished."

Draco smiled softly at that, making the Gryffindor blink in confusion.

"It's never finished between you and me, Harry," he said seriously. "And about being gentle... It's what I want to do. You could at least try to live with it."

Harry nodded, but he was still afraid to meet Draco's gaze. The blond sighed, cupping Harry's cheek, forcing him to look into his mercury eyes. The Gryffindor swallowed hardly, feeling Draco's sweet breath on his lips.

"Just try, Harry."

They were the last words Harry heard before being pulled towards that soft mouth, which he kissed cautiously, adoringly, lovingly. Draco's tongue was caressing his own teasingly, gently. Without thinking, Harry found his arms slipping around the fair-haired man's slender waist, gently pulling his lover closer. The movement had lost the original possessiveness, instead it was protective and timid at the same time.

Harry let his lover control the kiss. Draco’s tongue caressed his own, violating his mouth, claiming his warmness. In that moment he would have tear out his heart with his own hands to give it to the man he loved and who was kissing him as if there were no tomorrow, as if there were no time, no space, no pain.

Only them, in that kitchen filled with morning light and smell of burned bread.

Only Draco and Harry, Harry and Draco, and no one else. There was nothing and no one else they needed now except each other, their mouths, their hands and their skin, touching, burning and melting.

It seemed to last a wonderful eternity before ending.

Staring into those grey and green depths, their mouths only few inches away, they looked at each other, unknowingly sharing the same feelings and the same fears. It was then that Harry caressed Draco's cheek lightly, sweetly. The blond flinched under that touch, his pale skin still sensitive.

Harry frowned, withdrawing his hand quickly, guiltily.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked and then smacked himself mentally for the stupidity of that question.

Draco sighed, softly.

"No. Not this time," he whispered, and Harry closed his eyes for a while, silently savouring the bitterness and the pain that those words had inflicted him.

Finally, he looked again at Draco, smiling weakly, trying to hide his feelings.

"Come on," Harry said, taking his lover’s hand and gently leading him towards the bedroom. "You'd better rest a bit more," he explained.

Draco followed him without a word, and silently allowed the Gryffindor to help him lie down.

Harry sat on the floor, leaning his head against the sheets, his hand running through Draco's hair, caressing that platinum silk soothingly, and his green eyes staring at the soft features of his lover. He kept sitting by the bed until Draco fell in a calm sleep. And even when his legs went numb, Harry didn't move from his place, unknowingly lost in his bittersweet thoughts.

The first things Draco noticed as he opened his eyes for the second time that day were again Harry's absence and a little note on the bedside table.

I've gone out but I'll come back soon. If you need me this is my mobile number.

Please, try to rest.

Harry

Draco shook his head softly at that, trying to forget about Harry for a moment. He considered the latest development in what, with the help of a vivid imagination, could be called their relationship.

Harry was in pain.

Draco could sense it easily, as if there was a halo irradiating from his lover. He was both saddened and pleased by this. In a way Harry deserved to suffer a little. Then again, he felt the sorrow because he loved Harry and he was, in part, responsible for the way Harry had acted. It was also sad to witness the way Harry acted now. He seemed scared of everything: of not being able to control his emotions, of hurting, of Draco and of himself.

Draco sighed, slowly getting up. He felt torn. He knew that it was wrong for them to be together, but at the same time, he didn't care, wanting to drown in that wrongness together with Harry.

Harry, the one he had hurt and that had hurt him. Harry, the man he loved and the one who would hate Draco as soon as he regained his memories. 

Draco’s head began to spin out of control and he tried to shut his thoughts out when he suddenly realized the only true thing that swirled madly into his mind: he loved Harry.

Draco also knew that it meant nothing, because at that moment, with a throbbing headache and a painful weight in his chest, he firmly renewed the decision he had reached with Hermione.

He had to leave Harry, once for all.

Because it was that way things were meant to be. Because that would be the first right thing he will have done all his life. Because as much as he would like it to be true, the happy ending between them was even less than a dream.

It was useless to keep pretending that maybe, just maybe, there would have been a bit of peace in the end, a numb sense of finality. Draco knew that there wasn't a place or time for them. And if ever there had been, they were past and buried under years of lost memories, pain and regret.

As he put on some clothes, he silently prayed to whomever would listen to him, to give him the strength to carry on his duty till the end, because it was getting harder with each passing moment. Just as the end of the second month got closer. As Harry got sweeter. And as his love for the black-haired man carved deeper into his heart.

Somebody help me, Draco thought desperately before finally succeeding in shutting off his bitter thoughts.

Then, in the unexpressed hope for being able to run away from that unbearable reality, he reached for the piano, sat down and began to play.

Play it.

Why, Potter? It's just a silly song.

But I like it. Please, Malfoy, play it for me.

And he would have played it, gently, knowing that he would have done so even if Harry hadn't begged him, because he needed to answer his prayer, he lived to grant his lover’s wishes.

Draco smiled softly at the sudden recollection, while his fingers moved on the keyboard with knowing experience. He stop playing, while in his head he heard again and again that silly song that brought with it the sound of that old piano in that empty Hogwarts' room and the light humming of Harry.

"Play it."

Draco blinked, suddenly drawn back to reality by the real Harry, who had strangely used the same words and the same tone for his request.

"Why, Harry? It's just a silly song."

"But I like it. Please, Draco, play it for me."

And Draco played it, gently, losing himself in that endless déjà-vu, losing himself in the need to fulfil Harry's wishes until he wouldn't have that chance anymore.

Draco played while Harry's head span, while those green eyes saw things their owner didn't remember. Unrecognisable lost memories. But eventually the music dimmed and Draco turned to face him with an interrogative expression.

"What?" He asked softly.

"Nothing. It's just..." Harry began, uncertain. "A déjà-vu," he finished, smiling sadly.

Draco nodded, looking away, afraid of betraying his thoughts to his lover with a simple gaze.

"How do you feel?" The Gryffindor asked, suddenly.

"Better. I think that sleeping makes the healing spell work faster," he said, softly. Harry nodded, looking away, his hands pushed in his pocket.

"Do you... do you want to go out?"

Draco blinked at that suggestion.

"There's something I'd like to show you, if you feel like going out," Harry explained quickly. The Slytherin moved his gaze to the window. The dusk was near.

Finally, he turned towards Harry and smiled, a little true smile.

"Yes, I'd like very much to go out."

Harry smiled back and Draco saw something like happiness and relief flashing behind those green emeralds.

"Very well. I'll take the coats," he said, quickly leaving the room.

Draco had a sad smile on his lips. He shook his head softly, turning again towards the piano to caress the ivory keys. Then, waiting for Harry, he found himself unconsciously mouthing those oh so well known words.

Sometimes he'll come along, the man I love.

No sound escaped his lips, but he didn't need it. Music was filling his head.

Go to next part.

people have been to this page since August 18, 2002.  
Part 18: Counting Stars  
in you I see dirty  
in you I count stars  
in you I feel so pretty  
in you I taste god  
in you I feel so hungry  
in you I crash cars

we must never be apart

"Ava Adore", Smashing Pumpkins

Harry was driving calmly through the London's streets. Every now and then he gave a look to Draco, sitting on the passenger seat with his eyes closed. The approaching dusk was tingeing everything with orange and red shades and the Slytherin's platinum hair had now a beautiful coppery halo.

Only when Harry abandoned the asphalted road Draco opened his eyes. He looked outside the window, frowning as he noticed the surrounding. They were in a large field, where the grass had grown quite wild.

Harry stopped the car stopped right in front of the setting sun and switched off the engine. He remained still and silent for a while before turning towards Draco.

"We'd better get off," he said, smiling slightly.

Draco nodded confused and followed Harry out of the car. They walked in front of it facing the sun, surrounded by the warm colours, their eyes narrowed at the last rays of light.

Finally the sun disappeared under the horizon and again Draco turned to look at Harry. The Gryffindor was checking his watch.

"Mmm.... It's coming," he said cryptically, making Draco frown even deeper.

"What's coming?"

"That," Harry said, pointing a finger towards the sky, slightly above the point where the sun had been a while ago.

Draco had just the time to look up before a loud noise began to fill the air. His eyes went wide as he finally saw it. He brought his hands to his ears and shivered without knowing why. It was then that sensed Harry's presence closer to him, and after a while he felt his lover's arm hugging him. Draco leaned against Harry's chest, unable to tear his eyes from the thing coming quickly towards them.

They said nothing while the object gained height and approached until it was passing over their heads, moving towards an unknown destination. The noise followed it and slowly both disappeared, leaving behind two men silently hugged.

It took a while before Draco spoke again.

"That was..." He began before trailing off.

"...a plane. A muggle travelling way," Harry said, filling Draco's lack of words.

"Yeah, I know. It's just I've never seen one before. Not so close, I mean."

Harry smirked at the surprise in Draco's voice.

"I suspected it. That's why I took you here. I thought you would have liked it."

"I did," Draco said softly, the back of his head rested against Harry's shoulder.

"But you're sad," Harry stated, a bit worried.

"Am I? I don't know," the blonde said, sighing. "Where is that plane going?" He asked suddenly.

"I can't tell. But you could go everywhere with one of them."

"If you know where you want to go," Draco stated softly.

"Yeah. If you know," Harry agreed with a strange sad whisper.

They said nothing for a long time, both looking at the spot the plane had filled a while ago. It was Draco who shattered their silence, raising a hand towards the sky with a fluid motion.

"Look. The stars," he said.

"They're quite bright. It's a clear evening," Harry stated, breathing the air, which smelled of grass and dampness.

He felt Draco shiver against him and he hugged him tightly but gently, afraid of hurting him, afraid of fucking up things again.

"Are you cold?" He asked, his breath caressing Draco's ear softly.

The blonde turned into Harry's embrace until he was facing him, a strange expression in his mercury eyes. But the Gryffindor didn't have enough time to look at them, 'cause suddenly Draco buried his face into Harry's chest.

"Yes, a bit. But I don't want to go. Not yet," he said, his voice slightly muffled by the fabric of Harry's coat.

If Harry could have looked at him right now he would have noticed a bitter smile on Draco's lips. The Slytherin was considering the strange choice of words he had used.

I don't want to go. I would never go. I'd like to stay this way forever. I feel like I could die now and have no regrets, he thought, unaware that in that moment Harry was thinking almost the same thing.

I shouldn't feel so good. But I do. God knows if I do. And right now there's nothing else I could ask for. Maybe only to make this moment last forever, Harry prayed, raising a hand to caress gently Draco's silky hair. Then, tenderly, he leaned to place a soft kiss on it.

The blonde raised his head looking questioningly at Harry. They looked each other for a while, until Draco moved, causing their lips to touch tentatively.

While they kissed, they both shivered, but they couldn't tell if it was fault of the winter breeze or of the silent feeling they obstinately kept buried deep inside their hearts, both fooling themselves with the certainty of doing the right thing.

Their intimacy lasted until they felt that loud noise approaching once more. They parted to look at a new plane flying to its destination.

Just like before they said nothing. But at the end, it was Harry turn to shatter the silence.

"Let's go home."

The stars watched them go back home. It wasn't particularly late when they arrived, but Harry felt tired in a way he had never felt before.

"How do you feel?" he asked softly.

"Fine. I bit tired. I think I'll take a shower. Do you mind?" Draco answered.

Harry shook his head. "No, I don't. Just tell me if you need something," he said.

"Don't worry." Harry heard Draco say before disappearing into the bathroom. The black-haired man took away his shoes and lay on his bed. He sighed, rubbing his tired eyes behind the glasses.

Draco. What can I say? What can I do? Why did I have to take things to this point?

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't noticed drifting into sleep. 

That’s how Draco found him when he got out from the bathroom. The fair-haired man shook his head under the towel he was using to dry his hair. Silently, he approached Harry and cautiously, he slipped his glasses away, placing them on the bedside table.

Only when he turned again he noticed that Harry had woken up and was looking at him with his amazingly green eyes.

"I didn't mean to wake you up," he apologised. But Harry didn't seem to listen.

"Will things ever work between us?"

The question lingered in the air for a while. Draco froze, searching for an answer he didn't have. But when he looked again at Harry's expression, he understood that the black-haired man didn't need one. So Draco lay down next to him, burying his face in the crook of Harry's neck, smelling the scent of his skin, hungry to taste it.

The Slytherin's finger worked their way through that black hair soothingly, washing away questions and answers, hopes and fears. With Draco's body pressed against his own, Harry found himself unable to think coherently.

And then, as those perfect pale lips parted to taste Harry's sensitive skin, the Gryffindor's brain went dangerously near to a total meltdown. 

What is he doing? What am I doing? I can't... Harry thought frantically as he felt his body answering to every little Draco's movement.

"Draco... Don't... I..."

"Shh..." Draco whispered against his ear, teasing it with his breath. "Make love with me..."

They were too wrapped up in feeling each other to notice the real meaning of those words. Draco’s hands were working their way over Harry's shirt, unbuttoning it slowly and caressing the smooth skin it hid.

Harry couldn't help but shiver while he tried to control himself.

"Let go, Harry," Draco said before assaulting one of his exposed nipples.

And Harry let go, moaning under the touch of Draco's mouth, moving his hand to reach that platinum hair that tingled his skin.

Draco's fingers caressed his body, claiming it.

Harry answered, calling his name softly in an endless prayer. He felt the Slytherin's hand unzip his pants and reach for his cock, stroking it and closing around it firmly.

Harry arched his back offering himself to the pleasure Draco was giving him. But eventually, the fair-haired man stopped his ministrations long enough to take off the remaining his clothes.

Gently, Harry took his lover in his arm, hugging him, while his lips caressed Draco's mouth and his hands explored the pale skin tenderly and cautiously, tracing the healing wounds softly to dig them painfully into Harry's memory.

Draco moaned as the black-haired man's mouth slid down his chest and stomach to reach for his cock. Harry’s kisses were so light and sweet that he felt that he would melt under the assault. His muscles tensed and relaxed anticipating every touch. Finally, Harry's mouth closed around Draco's cock and he lost the little control he still had over his body.

Harry was doing his best to please his love, licking and sucking him with experience, pressing the right buttons to inflame his passion.

Draco moaned, calling Harry's name while his excitement grew dangerously close to the edge.

The black-haired man slowed down his movements but he didn't let go of his lover, driving him crazy with the pleasure.

"Harry... Please... I want... I want to feel you..." Draco whispered finally, bringing Harry's hand to his mouth, to kiss and suck his fingers.

Harry looked at him, while his hand still stroked Draco's cock.

"Draco... Are you sure? I..."

"Please. Harry. Just... do it," Draco answered, hardly breathing.

Harry withdrew his hand, touching Draco's lips lightly, leaving a trace of saliva on them. Then, while his mouth claimed again the fair-haired man's cock, making him arch his back and jerk his head, he slowly caressed Draco's entrance before pushing one finger inside that intoxicating heat.

"Harry..." he hissed, losing every inhibition. "More..."

A second finger followed the first. Draco closed his eyes surrendering to the sensations Harry was giving him.

The black-haired man continued moving inside Draco's tightness until he felt his lover relax completely and answering his ministrations with both his body and his words.

"Now, Harry. I want you..."

Harry withdrew his fingers gently and cautiously replaced them with his cock, sliding inside that warmness as slow as he could.

He stood still, melting in that warmness as he felt Draco tensing again. But eventually his lover abandoned himself to the pleasure and moved a little under Harry, allowing him to sink deeper into his tight heat.

Harry felt Draco's hands run over his back, caressing him, leading him in such a way that Harry couldn't help but grant the silent request with slow deep thrusts that brought both of them towards the edge without difficult.

"Draco," Harry whispered, his voice cracking under the excitement. He saw Draco open his eyes and look at him with lust and desire.

"God... Draco," he said again, leaning towards him, claiming his mouth as the ecstasy claimed them both in a swirl of sensations, pleasure and emotions.

In the peace of the afterglow, Harry felt Draco curl near him, with his back against his chest. He kissed the back of his lover’s neck tenderly, while his hands caressed the pale lean shoulders.

"Are you ok?" Harry asked softly, doing his best to hide his concern and his fears.

"Mmm... Yeah," Draco answered lazily, his voice muffled against his pillow.

They didn't try to look at each other, both assuming tiredness and sleep. But unknowingly, they stayed awake for a long time, silently replaying what had happened during the time they had spent together, thinking about what they had felt and what they hoped now.

Maybe, just maybe, if they could have given voice to their fears and to their desires, they would have found that they shared more that they originally thought. But the room remained sadly silent while the stars outside looked at them disapprovingly for losing one of the last chances they had to make things right.

And so, torn and tired, Harry and Draco drifted into an identical and dreamless sleep, trying not to think about the distance that separated them even now that they were so close on that bed.

Trying not to think about the day that had just passed and that brought them closer to an end that was long awaited but strangely feared.

Go to next part.

people have been to this page since August 18, 2002.  
Part 19: The Road You're On  
Yes there are two paths you can go by  
but in the long run  
there's still time to change the road you're on

"Led Zeppelin", Stairway to Heaven

Draco lay lazily on the couch, reading a book and smoking a cigarette. For god knows which time, he was alone in the flat, alone with his thoughts, but he was trying to avoid them, just like had done since that night of reconciliation with Harry. Those moments shared with his love and his hate had made him feel warm and, in a certain way, complete. And those sensations were still there, enveloping him. But Draco knew that studying in next move while caught in those particular feelings could have a negative impact on his decision. And that was the reason why he spent his days in a sort of consciously induced daze, reading stubbornly, smiling detachedly at Harry while hiding his real feelings, sleeping most of the time and trying with all his might not to think about it, not to think at all.

And he was about to achieve his goal for that day too when the phone rang. Slightly annoyed, he let go the book and tiredly reached for the cordless lying near him on the couch.

"Hello?" For a while there was only silence. Then a feminine voice answered.

"Draco? Is that you?"

He recognized it immediately and, almost involuntarily, smirked.

"Miss Granger. Good morning. What can I do for you?" Hermione didn't answer for a while, taken aback by the unexpected choice of words.

"Well, Draco. First of all you could drop this professional tone. It doesn't suit you..." she began sarcastically. Draco shook his head, lazily taking a drag of smoke.

"Improving in come backs, I see. Well then. How can I help you, Hermione?"

"Much better now. Is Harry there?" She asked cautiously.

"Mmm... No. Sorry."

Hermione seemed to consider the answer before speaking again.

"Well, I can talk freely then. Tell me... Do you think you two could be free Saturday evening?"

"This Saturday?"

"No, next week..."

Draco reflected for a while. "I think there won't be a problem. Why?" He asked.

"Erm... We'd like to have dinner with you..." the witch began, her tone suddenly unsure.

"We?" Draco questioned ironically suspicious.

"Yeah... We... I mean... Ron and I..." she began again before trailing off.

"Dinner with the Weasel. That's definitely a way to pass my evening," he stated sarcastically.

He listened to Hermione's embarrassed silence for a while. And finally he sighed.

"Come on. I'm kidding. I don't think we'll have problem to join you but what's the reason for this familiar meeting, if I may ask?" He asked amused.

"Oh God, Draco. You're unbearable you know?"

"No, I don't," he answered, faking innocence and Hermione sighed, defeated.

"Well, let's say we have an announcement to make. I wanted this to be a surprise, but it's obvious that with you these things are impossible. Ron and I, we are sort of..."

"Engaged?" Draco suggested, the smirk on his face almost perceptible from his voice.

"Why, yes," Hermione answered tiredly

"Congratulations. To Weasel I mean. I don't find much to praise you for your choice."

"Draco!"

"Alright, alright... Does Harry know?"

"No! That's why we wanted it to be a surprise. I mean... He tried to get us together for a very long time..."

"Ok, I'll keep your secret. Where and when?"

"Nine o'clock. Same place... Harry knows where."

"Very well. It will be a wonderful day for an engagement. And for a goodbye." He added more softly.

Silence fell over them until Hermione spoke again, her voice slightly shaking.

"Draco? What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. The term will end next week. Saturday."

Again silence, heavy and frightening.

"Are you sure? You know you don't have to..."

"I'll never be sure. But I have to go."

"No, you..." she began, but he cut her off.

"There's no other way. And if there is, it's not the one for me. Sorry, Hermione."

"I'm sorry," she whispered before becoming silent.

Some moments passed before Draco spoke again.

"Listen... I know I told you I wouldn't have asked another favour from you, but please look after him."

"Draco, that isn't a favour," she stated weakly.

"Thanks," he said softly.

"It's still strange to hear you say it."

"You should have grown used to it by now."

"Yeah. And if I haven’t, I won't have the time to be it, right?" she asked bitterly.

"Right."

There was nothing much to add after that and so the conversation died. Sadly.

Draco didn't remember how those last days passed. Because people almost never remembered the good times, while the bad ones had an attitude to get stuck in one’s mind.

But one way or another, the designed Saturday came, bringing with it the end of their agreement.

Draco acted as usual, cautiously observing Harry, who seemed strangely oblivious of the recurrence. The fair-haired man faced several moments during the day in which he pondered if maybe, he had to remind Harry that "hey, by the way, tomorrow you'll wake up and I won't be there". But he didn't. Maybe because he thought his lover didn't deserve it. Or maybe because looking at Harry smiling to Draco, talking to him or simply being there for him, made every decision tremble.

And that's why Draco began to wonder if he was really going to do the right thing.

Sure you are. Just think what will happen when he will remember. He'll hate you. And that would be the best outcome. Do you fancy going through what you went thought last time?

He wouldn't do it again, Draco would go against his common sense.

Oh, he wouldn't, would he?

But still Draco wasn't so sure. So, swinging between certainty and uncertainty, he lived his last hours as Harry's whore or as Harry's lover.

Until it was time to go.

"Are you ready?" Harry asked.

No, no, no, no, Draco wanted to cry, but he found himself nodding with a light smile.

Harry smiled back and leaned to touch Draco's lips with his. A feathery kiss.

Draco was so caught by the tingling sensation Harry had left on his mouth that he didn't notice those Seeker's hands moving on his jacket. Finally, looking down at his breast pocket he looked at Harry, frowning.

"A white rose. Again. Why?" He asked seriously, while touching cautiously the little flower.

Harry raised an eyebrow, surprised. "I don't know," he said frowning, as trying to focus on the real reason for his gesture. "I think it reminds me of you."

"It reminds me of you, Malfoy," Harry said and his voice echoed strangely into Professor Sprout's empty greenhouse.

"So pale. As purity and innocence," he continued while he pushed his hand into the tangle of the white roses. "But deep down painful, just as every dangerous and forbidden wish," he finished tearing away a single perfect flower.

Draco looked at him and at the blood that shined slightly into the semi darkness of the greenhouse as Harry handed him the rose.

The Slytherin didn't move immediately, but finally he reached for the flower, taking it from Harry's fingers, wounded by the thorns.

"You're a fool, Potter," he drawled, looking down at his own pale perfect fingers now stained with the Gryffindor's blood.

"I am, am I not?" Harry said. And he was so serious.

"Draco, let's go. We will be late,"

The Slytherin snapped out of his reverie and looked at Harry again, searching for that boy he used to know.

I wonder where he is now.

The same place where you are now, his mind answered knowingly for him. Deep down, hidden into your memories. Times can only go on. And you can only let go, Draco. You'll never see again that Harry. And he'll never see again that Draco. Deal with it.

Draco didn't reply, but kept staring at Harry who led the way out of the flat.

But sometimes... sometimes I think he's right there. Laughing bitterly behind those green eyes as he used to do. Probably laughing at me, for my uncertainty, for my stupidity and for my useless regret over lost chances.

In the end, they were late. Hermione and Ron were waiting for them.

"Sorry. Draco got stuck in front of the mirror," Harry apologized.

"Well, if these are the results..." Hermione said, smirking.

"Herm!" Ron began, worried because of the appreciative look his girlfriend was giving to his enemy.

"...you should lend it to me..." She finished sighing, as the red-haired man looked suspiciously at her and at a laughing Draco.

"Well then. You can borrow it, but I can’t guarantee it’ll work on Weasley," Draco drawled, amused.

"What?"

"Come on Ron," Harry cut him off, sighing. "We were already late. Let's take our seats."

Silent but still fuming, the redhead nodded and they entered the restaurant.

The dinner went smoothly, talking about everything and nothing. During the light and friendly conversation, Hermione had several chances to notice how Harry moved around Draco: carefully, cautiously, as if afraid of breaking him. Even if she had been distracted by her excitement, Ron would have pointed out Harry’s unusual behaviour, lightly squeezing her knee under the table while looking at their friend. Hermione nodded imperceptibly, observing a last time the pained look of those green eyes before focusing on a pair of grey ones, searching for an answer.

A definitive answer.

And as much as Draco tried to avoid her, as much as his gaze was empty even while he smiled and talked carelessly, she finally caught a glimpse of fear, doubt and pain in those mercury pools. And then, unfortunately, she found was she hoped she wouldn't find: determination.

So, she sighed imperceptibly, catching Ron's hand for support before looking at Harry and smiling.

"Well, Harry. As much as we like your company, this isn't the main reason we're here tonight. Ron and I, we wanted to tell you something," she finished, looking expectantly at her fiancé.

"Right. You see, Harry... Hermione and I... We took your advice," Ron blurted out, blushing and avoiding his friend gaze.

Hermione shook her head, smirking while Harry looked at them confused.

"I think that what Weasley is trying to tell you is that he had suddenly found himself unsatisfied with his previous friendly-and-nothing-more kind of relationship with Hermione. And that that's why he finally took the advice you gave them a long time ago," Draco said, sighing in a faked exaggerated emotion. Then flatly, he added: "Shortly: they're engaged, Harry,"

"Oh... I... I understand," Harry said, arching his eyebrows and reaching for his wineglass, while Ron, Hermione and Draco laughed at his surprise.

And Harry was surprised, indeed. He was about to lose every hope about his best friends and now, the news of their engagement made him happy. Happy and sad at the same time, because if Hermione and Ron had taken years to finally come to a term, they did it, in the end. But for him, for him and Draco, there was no possible time.

Maybe in another life, he thought tiredly, while he raised the flûte of champagne with the others, wishing to his friends the happiness he felt he would never see.

And so, when the dinner was finally over, Harry still felt crushed by his pain and his guilt, clearly knowing that they would have never been over.

"Well, then... Goodbye." Draco said suddenly.

Hermione and Ron blinked, hit by the soft firmness of his tone, well conscious of the hidden meanings of those few words.

Draco was looking away in the empty street, his hands in the pocket of his coat, his paleness almost luminescent in the darkness of that night without moon.

Hermione was the first to recover, knowing that Harry would have understood if she began to cry. So, calmly, she hugged Draco, squeezing her eyes, trying to prevent her feelings from showing on the surface. She felt the wizard stiffen in her arms before relaxing and answer her embrace, soothing her with a light caress on her back.

"Goodbye Hermione. And thanks for everything," he whispered against her hair.

"Take care of yourself," she whispered back before releasing him. "See you soon Draco," the witch said louder, turning towards Harry to hug him too.

And while she embraced her friend, she could see Ron held out his hand to the Slytherin. She smiled softly, knowing what that meant to her boyfriend. Draco seemed surprised and looked interrogatively at the redhead before shaking his hand softly.

"Goodbye Malfoy." Ron said simply, before releasing the pale slender hand with a calm smile. Draco smiled back, maybe the first true smile he had given to the fiery Gryffindor.

"Goodbye Weasley. Take care of the lady," he said finally tearing his gaze from Ron's.

"I will," the redhead answered softly before turning towards Harry. "Goodbye, mate. See you soon."

"Sure." Harry answered smiling, unaware of the atmosphere of finality in which his friends and his lover were immersed. "I think we'll better go now. Draco is tired," he said, looking worriedly at his lover.

His friends nodded, waving their hands. Harry answered as usual and didn't notice Draco's raised hand that stated his goodbye to the couple.

He didn't notice Ron and Hermione's gazes.

He didn't notice Draco's.

Because if he had, he would have understood that there, in an empty dark street, a definitive goodbye had been shared.

The last, and intended for him too. Especially for him.

Go to next part.

people have been to this page since August 18, 2002.  
Part 20: Tonight, Tonight  
time is never time at all  
you can never ever leave  
without leaving a piece of youth  
and our lives are forever changed  
we will never be the same  
the more you change the less you feel  
believe, believe in me, believe... believe  
that life can change, that you're not stuck in vain  
we're not the same, we're different tonight  
tonight... tonight, so bright  
tonight... tonight 

"Tonight, Tonight", Smashing Pumpkins

It was the last time that they would enter the flat together, but only Draco knew this. He flinched as Harry turned on the lights.

"Anything wrong?" the Gryffindor asked with concern as he noticed the frown of his lover.

Draco shook his head slightly.

"No. It's nothing," he reassured, but Harry didn't believe him.

"You... you can tell me. If you want, I mean..." Harry tried, uncertain.

Draco smiled softly at Harry’s hesitation. Since the day Harry had beaten his lover close to death, he had been afraid and concerned, double-guessing all of his actions. This made Draco feel sad and compassionate. However, blonde had no time to analyse Harry’s behaviour. There was time for nothing at that point.

Draco smiled bitterly. "What do you want me to say Harry? That I hate you?"

Harry flinched and looked away.

Draco sighed. "Harry... look at me," he said, and Harry raised his gaze, tentatively. "I don't hate you. I'm not angry with you for what happened. I don't blame you and I don't want you to drown in your guilt forever. It's useless, don't you think?"

The Gryffindor blinked as if he had just been slapped.

"Now come here. I want to have a good memory of this night," Draco said softly.

Harry did what he told him, without wondering, not even for a moment, what Draco really meant.

and you know you're never sure  
but you're sure you could be right  
if you held yourself up to the light  
and the embers never fade in your city by the lake  
the place where you were born  
believe, believe in me, believe... believe  
in the resolute urgency of now  
and if you believe there's not a chance tonight  
tonight... tonight, so bright  
tonight... tonight

"Malfoy... What are you doing to me?"

Harry blinked, not knowing why those words had suddenly sprang to mind. He had just the time to frown when other words hit him.

"I don't... please don't... don't stop..."

Is it me? I don't remember saying something like that, he was thought when Draco, the real one, interrupted his reverie.

"What's wrong?"

"What's wrong Potter? Let yourself go," a voice said, and it was teasingly amused.

Draco saw Harry blink again and stare into nothing. "Harry?" He called again, confused.

"What?" The Gryffindor asked, coming back to reality.

"Do you want me to stop?" Draco asked.

"Do you want me to stop, Potter?"

"Don't. Please don't stop," he heard himself answer.

"Don't. Please don't stop," he said distantly, echoing the words in his head and leaning to kiss Draco's soft lips.

The Slytherin frowned briefly, hit by a sudden sense of déjà-vu, before smirking satisfied.

"Very well," he stated, his fingers unbuttoning Harry's shirt.

Draco pushed it past his lover’s shoulders and leaned to kiss and tease the sensitive skin of his neck. Harry jerked his head back, offering his throat to Draco's hungry mouth. Harry moaned as feathery kisses and light bites attacked him and he closed his arms around Draco's slender waist.

"You scare me," he whispered, unconsciously.

Draco froze, finally understanding.

"You scare me."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"Malfoy... What are you doing to me."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"Don't. Please, don't stop."

Draco remembered how he answered that prayer, making love to Harry for the first time, back in that lost seventh year. He... he's remembering, Draco panicked, before Harry held him tighter. The Gryffindor began to kiss Draco back, teasing him while removing his shirt.

"Harry," Draco whispered, drawing small circles on Harry’s back, feeling his lover's hands all over him, warming him as fire.

"Make love to me, tonight," Harry said, his voice distant, as coming back from that buried past.

"Harry," Draco sighed.

Harry slid his hand down his lover’s stomach and closed his mouth around Draco’s nipple. "Please," Harry suddenly breathed against Draco’s chest. "Please, I want to feel you. Please," Harry said before letting his tongue trail again on Draco's pale skin.

Draco moaned, losing himself in that place where it was impossible to distinguish between present and past, between reality and desire. He pushed his slender fingers through Harry's hair, and titled Harry’s head until their gazes locked. Those green pools burned in hunger and lust.

Draco smirked, catching Harry's bottom lip between his teeth, sucking it softly, before letting it go and pushing his tongue into the Gryffindor's warm mouth. Violating that sanctuary again, as he had done when they were in school. His assault was rewarded by a soft moan. Draco moves his hand until it reached Harry's hard cock through the fabric of his trousers.

"Are you sure?"

He asked, remembering the exact words he had used that time, barely caring that it was a dangerous game they were playing. Their last game.

"Are you sure Potter?"

The young Gryffindor nodded, and his green eyes were so big behind those glasses. The Slytherin took them away, facing a lustful unfocused gaze. A gaze full of determination. Draco smirked.

"Yes..." Harry hissed while slender fingers caressed him.

"I won't make you regret this."

"Yes." Harry answered again.

"I won't make you regret this," Draco breathed against Harry's ear while unzipping his lover’s trousers.

"I know you won't," Harry whispered lying down on the bed, half naked and with his eyes closed.

Draco looked at the Gryffindor for a moment, feeling a sting of pain in his chest. Oh, but I did, instead. I made you regret that. God knows if I did, he thought bitterly, before leaning towards his lover and taking away his glasses.

Harry was looking at him, his eyes unfocused and lustful as that time. And just as certain.

Did I know that there was love in there back then, too? Did I know what I would do and what I would lose? Draco wondered, unable to tear his gaze from Harry. He didn't look for an answer.

"Close your eyes," he said instead, smiling softly to his lover. And Harry obeyed, abandoning himself completely into Draco's hands that undressed him and teased him until he could only beg incoherently for more.

"Harry," Draco whispered, stroking his cock absently. "Don't you want to make love to me?" he asked teasingly. Harry suppressed a moan.

"No," Harry barely managed to say, making Draco frown. "I... I want you to make love to me," he explained, gasping when Draco released him.

Even if the images in front of him where blurred, Harry could tell that Draco was looking at him with a shocked expression, something difficult to find on the Slytherin's face.

"You want me... to make love to you?" The fair-haired man asked, uncertain.

Harry nodded, closing his eyes and Draco studied that beautiful flushed face, that gorgeous body and the soul hidden in there. The one he loved.

"Harry? I don't want to hurt you..."

Harry smirked, his eyes still closed. "You aren't me. You won't hurt me," he said bitterly, reaching for Draco's hand and bringing it to his lips.

Yeah, maybe I won't. But I did. And you'll remember that Harry, sooner or later. What will you do then? Will you still offer yourself to me? But Harry kissed Draco's fingers softly, adoringly. And Draco shut up his mind.

"And I know you won't make me regret it. Please Draco, make love to me," Harry whispered before sucking softly his lover's fingers.

It was like being shocked with electricity. Draco moved his other hand to caress Harry's hair, his cheeks, and his neck.

"Are you sure?" Draco asked another time. The answer was still the same.

we'll crucify the insincere tonight  
we'll make things right, we'll feel it all tonight  
we'll find a way to offer up the night tonight  
the indescribable moments of your life tonight  
the impossible is possible tonight 

Draco saw Harry tensing at the intrusion. "Relax," he said softly, leaning to lick his lover's cock.

Harry moaned as he felt Draco’s fingers slid further inside his body. He closed his eyes, panting slightly.

"Oh, God... Draco," he whispered.

Draco smirked, satisfied, and stroking Harry's cock, he withdrew his fingers. Harry still had his eyes closed when Draco slid inside him. One smooth movement. Harry let out a cry and tensed around his lover’s erection.

"Shh. Calm down. I can stop if you want."

"No," Harry gasped, beginning to relax. "It's ok. I... I feel it's right this way," he said, softly.

"Open your eyes, Harry."

Harry obeyed and faced Draco's grey gaze. The blonde was looking worriedly at Harry’s flushed face, at his lips pressed in a thin line. Overwhelmed by the sight, Draco claimed those inviting lips, kissing his lover until the tension melted and Harry moaned.

Draco was moving softly inside him and it was becoming so difficult to breath, to think, to be. Soon Harry was lost into his lover's mercury gaze, into his ministrations.

"Draco," he whispered. "Don't leave me. Don't leave me again." he said, incoherently, not even hearing his own words, just feeling that he was doing the right thing, something he should have done before.

Draco closed his eyes, letting those words wash over him, just like the sensations he was feeling after so much time. And praying for them to last forever.

"Harry," he murmured touching his lover skin, teasing his cock, thrusting slowly, deeply inside him.

Harry moaned again, jerking his head back, offering himself as used to do when he still was the Hogwarts' golden boy.

Don't remember, Harry. Not now. Never, Draco thought frantically, kissing his neck, licking adoringly his salty skin.

"Please..." Draco found himself begging when the excitement became unbearable, when every problem and every fear disappeared in those indescribable moments.

The only thing Draco could hear was Harry crying his name. And he echoed him, calling him in an interminable whisper, as a lullaby that took both of them in the dizzy peace of the afterglow.

"Please, hold me," Harry murmured, curling against Draco, placing his head on his chest.

Draco pushed his fingers through Harry’s black hair, stroking it absently, while both drifted into sleep. He could hear Harry's breath becoming calm and regular.

"God, Draco... I love you."

Draco felt his heart skip a beat as those words left Harry's mouth. The same words the Gryffindor had uttered a long time ago.

"Harry?" he called in a frightened whisper, waiting for history to repeat itself.

This time Harry didn't answer. He was really asleep. And Draco could do nothing but watch him sleep all the night, while his heart beat painfully against his ribcage just like his thoughts and his questions beat against his skull.

As dawn arouse, Draco still hadn't found a single answer. Full of fear, he got up, slowly, paying attention to not wake up his lover. He found his clothes and dressed himself mechanically, then he took a piece of paper and wrote down few words. Silently, Draco placed it on the bedside table, near Harry's glasses. He looked down at his lover, at his love, for some interminable moment, filling his eyes and his heart with his relaxed figure.

It's better this way. For both of you, his mind interrupted him.

Draco sighed softly, touching lightly Harry's hair. Finally, he tore himself from that painful hesitation, exiting the room and carefully closing the door behind his shoulders.

And then he left. Maybe for ever.

believe in me as I believe in you, tonight  
tonight... tonight,  
tonight.

Go to next part.

people have been to this page since August 18, 2002.  
Part 21: Last Chance  
Can't we give ourselves one more chance?  
Why can't we give love that one more chance?  
Why can't we give love give love give love?  
Give love give love give love give love give love?

Cause love's such an old fashioned word  
And love dares you to care  
For people on the edge of the night  
And love dares you to change our way  
Of caring about ourselves

"Under Pressure", Queen

If Harry had had even the faintest idea of what the morning held in store for him, he wouldn't have woken up with that slight smile on his lips despite the annoying ringing of the phone. He was just coming back to consciousness when it stopped, and he sighed stretching lazily.

"Draco?" He called softly, holding out a hand towards the part of the bed he thought was occupied by his lover.

"Draco?" He called again a bit more concerned, when all his fingers touched was the cold fabric of empty sheets.

In a moment Harry was completely awake. He reached for his glasses on the bedside table and wore them.

Then he looked around, deepening his frown as he noticed the silence that underlined the lack of an answer to his questions.

Finally, Harry got up and reached the bathroom.

"Draco, are you in there?"

Again, nobody answered. Harry swallowed nervously as he quickly visited every room of the house. He checked the balcony too, but the reassuring presence of Draco leaned on the rails smoking his morning cigarette didn't welcome him.

When Harry came back to his room, he was more than concerned. But he still held the hope that Draco had simply gone out, even if he couldn't explain why he would do that.

Anyway, this last faint possibility faded as soon as he caught sight of a piece of paper abandoned on his bedside table.

How come I didn't notice it before? He wondered, reaching it with his fingers. If he noticed them trembling, he didn't bother explaining wh

He held the folded piece of paper for a moment, while his hands kept trembling. He looked at it without actually seeing it.

Sighing, Harry unfolded the note and read it.

And as soon as the words written on it sunk in his brain, he froze.

Harry,  
The term has ended.

Draco

PS: Don't look for me. Don't write me. Don't even think about me.

To an observer, he would have seemed a perfect marble copy of himself. A statue, holding a little piece of paper in his left hand and whose eyes weren't able to see anything.

The term has ended. Yesterday. It ended yesterday evening. I forgot it, he thought reflexively, without blinking.

Draco was meant to leave yesterday. I forgot. Oh, well... he considered while his fingers, now heavy as stone, lost their grip on the note, letting it fall on the floor silently.

Draco has left, he stated finally. And finally he was able to catch all the hidden meanings of those few words.

Draco. Has. Left.

Harry listened carefully to the sound of each words echoing for a while in his mind. They sounded so empty.

So frightening empty.

Harry shivered. And a sort of mechanical life seemed to fill again his body. Now he couldn't stop shivering. He couldn't stop thinking about Draco.

Draco who had left.

And he found himself unable to do anything else than stare at the mockingly innocuous piece of paper on the floor.

"I was just learning to love you again," he whispered, shattering the unnatural silence while a single tear began to fall, leaving a glistening trail on Harry's pale cheek.

And as the sound of his words faded, the wizard asked himself why he felt right to choose the last one.

Again? Harry wondered.

Again, a voice whispered in his mind, before everything went black around him.

It was strangely cold in the halls of Hogwarts for a late November evening.

Harry shivered under the comforting protection of his invisibility cloak and unfolded the Marauders Map.

After a short attentive look he focused on his goal.

Harry smirked bitterly while mentally taking notice of the direction.

Then he folded the map again and silently continued his way until an unknown door of an unknown room in the Slytherins' dungeons.

Through the thick wood a well-known drawl reached him.

"If this is what you expect from me, Father, what can I say?" Harry heard his enemy saying in a calm defeated tone.

"Nothing, Draco. I don't want you to say nothing. I just want you to do what you're meant to do. There's nothing to discuss," the cold voice of Lucius Malfoy pointed out.

Then, silence.

Harry waited for a while outside the door, trying to come out with a good reason to face Draco Malfoy.

But it wasn't as he hadn't good reasons to do it. Since the beginning of his seventh year, Harry had known that many things were going to change.

His scar had been telling him during the summer that Voldemort was about to end the strange silence that had lasted since that damn fourth year.

Once Ron had told him that to win a chess match your pieces must be in the right places.

"Prepare the battle field and struck," his friend had said.

And somehow Harry thought that the metaphor was perfect for Voldemort's tactic. Dumbledore hadn't kept secret his moves and Harry knew that something was going to happen as soon has his enemy was ready.

But would he be ready as well?

Harry wondered this every time he woke up with his hands pressed against his burning scar from visions of Voldemort's unspeakable actions.

So, sitting between Ron and Hermione on the Hogwarts' Express, he had allowed his gaze roam out of the window and had thought about his pieces, about his battlefield, about a way to win because losing wasn't an option, not for him.

And when his eyes had focused again on the compartment and he had gotten a brief flash of a platinum head walking past it, Harry had startled his friends with few deadly serious words:

"I wonder if I will be able to kill him."

Once Ron and Hermione had recovered from the shock, they had smiled faintly and the redhead had asked:

"You-Know-Who?"

Harry had looked at him, frowning. Voldemort was the last of his thoughts at that moment.

"No. Malfoy," he had said, making his friends gasp.

"I mean," he had continued calmly. "Everybody knows where his family's loyalty lies. Everybody knows whose ranks he'll join as soon as the term will end. And I know that I'll have to face him, out there. I just wonder if I will be able to kill him if it will be necessary."

Ron and Hermione hadn't found an answer. But Harry didn't need it, because deep inside his heart, he knew he wouldn't have been able to look Malfoy straight in his clear eyes and mutter two famous words.

Avada Kedavra.

Harry shivered again, snapping out of reverie. Behind the closed door, the silence kept reigning. The Gryffindor sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.

Then he held out a hand, turned the knob and pushed the door open.

Draco was sitting on an armchair in front of a fireplace. He didn't seem to have heard Harry entering the room. He sat perfectly still, his elbows abandoned on his knees and his face buried in the palm of his hands.

Harry took a step forward, unsure of what to do.

"I'd prefer to be left alone," Draco said suddenly, his voice echoing strangely soft. Harry held his breath, panicking for a while as the Slytherin finally raised his pale face. Only when he noticed Draco's frown he remembered that he was still hidden by the cloak.

And it was then that he really took his decision.

Harry let the cloak slide and showed himself, earning an icy glare from his nemesis.

"Potter," Draco spat, as if that word was a curse. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Harry said nothing but stared at the pale boy unsure. Draco instead got up, folded his arms on his chest and held Harry's gaze defiantly. He was waiting for an answer.

"Well," the Gryffindor began, trying hard to steady his voice.

Why is suddenly so difficult to face Malfoy? He wondered.

"I wanted to talk."

Draco arched an eyebrow.

"Then talk," he sighed, finally.

Harry looked at him sitting again on his armchair, frowning.

"I know what you're thinking. And I think it's my duty to remind you that I can always tell you to sod off. So, go on," Draco said smirking superiorly and gesturing towards a chair, before rubbing his hand against his forehead and sighing again.

Harry dragged the chair towards Draco and sat in front of him. He spent some moments observing his enemy. The Slytherin was paler than usual. He had shades under his eyes and his expression was so tired. Before he could think about what he was doing, Harry spoke.

"What's bothering you?"

Draco flinched.

"Oh my, Potter..." the Slytherin recovered after a while, "What make you think that if I were really bothered by something I would tell you?" Draco smirked.

Harry shook his head numbly.

"I don't know. Maybe, because if I were you, I'd look for help."

"And since when I would act like you, Potter? Maybe this is a not so subtle advice about following the noble example of our Golden Boy?" Draco continued, his smirk changing into a grin.

"Alright," Harry spat angrily, getting up from his chair. "I heard what your father told you," Harry muttered, faking and hoping that Draco would believe him. He held defiantly the suspicious glare of his enemy and observed with amazement his pale features crumple showing the anguish and the loneliness they hid.

"I should have told you to fuck off," Draco stated darkly, sinking in his armchair and pressing his eyes with the palm of his hands.

"But you didn't. Why?"

Draco didn't answer. Probably he couldn't, because he too didn't know why he hadn't cursed Harry as soon as he had appeared in front of him.

The Slytherin shook his head, dismissively.

"What about you, Potter?" He asked looking into Harry's green gaze. "I've seen you observing me since the beginning of the term. I've noticed you not picking up our usual fights. And I know you've been following me around more than once. What's bothering you, Potter? Isn't there anything you should confess?" Draco smirked mischievously.

Harry blinked, astonished by his lack of perception. He hadn't considered, not even for a while, that his moves could be so clear.

"I," he tried. "I've been thinking about you," he said, and immediately regretted it. His words had come out in a very wrong way.

Draco was looking at him with a strange half smile.

"Is that so? Am I the object of Saint Potter's wet dreams? I'm flattered. Really," he said, faking seriousness.

Despite his best intentions, at Draco's words Harry found himself in a strange state of mental confusion, barely aware of being blushing helplessly.

Reflexively he looked at the ground, not noticing Draco getting up and coming closer.

Harry flinched when the Slytherin's cold hand touched his chin and forced him to raise is gaze.

Draco stared at him, his mercury eyes clear as pure water. Then, slowly, he leaned towards Harry. The Gryffindor shivered as Draco's breath caressed his cheek.

"I was joking, Potter," the Slytherin whispered in an amused tone before observing Harry's reactions attentively.

The Gryffindor sighed, but he couldn't tell if in relief or disappointment.

He would have said something, anything. He would have shoved his nemesis away. He would. But Draco was so near. So damn solid, and reassuring and right there, with his hand still against Harry's burning skin.

With his lips mere inches away from Harry's.

Draco frowned at the lack of response. And his frown deepened when he noticed the Gryffindor gaze firm on his lips.

Tentatively, he passed the tip of his tongue on them, in a quick pink flicker.

Harry's gaze didn't waver but instead followed the movement in a sort of trance.

Draco was confused. He was joking. But Potter seemed to be confirming the deadly serious Gryffindor attitude.

"Potter..."

"Mmm?"

"What...?"

A single word could mean so many things. But Harry didn't bother considering the endless possibility. He just heard is voice answering.

"I don't know."

And it was true. He had come there with a plan. He had a speech ready. He had his certainties. And he always had his reasons.

But now everything seemed so distant compared to those thin pale lips.

Right then, the real problem in Harry's mind was about Draco's lips.

Will they be soft and silky? Or cold and hard?

In any other moment the Gryffindor would have been ashamed of his thoughts. Probably he wouldn't even have thought them.

Draco, on the other hand, was amazed. Harry's eyes were a book. An open book. And that red tinge of his skin that seemed to burn under Draco's fingertips intensified what he could read into those green pools.

Harry was off-guard.

Draco knew it. And he had been taught to take advantage of the enemy's weakness. No matter what it was.

So, as answering to an innate instinct, Slytherin leaned towards the Gryffindor and attacked.

But surely, an observer wouldn't have seen it this way, because Draco's lips touched Harry's with careful lightness.

He seemed almost afraid of shattering the other boy. But Harry wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived for nothing. And so, when the first shock of that warm and teasing contact wore off, he reacted as a true brave Gryffindor, parting his lips slightly, proudly defying the other to go further.

Draco went further. Past those lips, in the delirious warmness of Harry's mouth, exploring hungrily but gently.

And while lost in the discovery of each other, every question, every boundary, everything was forgotten.

They silently reassured themselves that they would have had time to make things right, after.

They couldn't know that they wouldn't have wanted to make things different, after.

Harry blinked.

Where?

He found himself lying on the floor of a room.

My room. This is my bedroom. I was dreaming. About me and Draco and...

Harry's eyes went wide as a strong twinge crossed his brain.

...our *seventh year*. He thought, holding his head in his hands afraid that it could explode. 'Cause Draco and I, we were together. We were together back then. It began because I wanted him to change his alliances. But in the end I wanted just him. Then I told him. I told him that I... That *I fucking loved him*. And...

And before he could lose himself in more painful memories the phone began to ring again. As moving underwater, Harry took the receiver and held it against his ear. But he said nothing.

He listened to the silence for a while until a trembling voice shattered it.

"Harry?"

"Hermione." He sighed, the well-known voice of his friend snapping him out of his apathy. "Listen, it isn't the right moment..."

"Has he left already?" She asked quickly.

"How...?" Harry tried before being cut off.

"How do I know? It isn't the right moment, Harry. I'll explain later. And you can kick my ass later for messing up your life. I don't care. But now, for god sake, listen 'cause you don't have time for anything else. His flight is leaving in fifteen minutes and you can't apparate inside the airport. Think about somewhere near there. As near as possible 'cause then you have to run. Last chance, Harry. And now, please, go. "

Hermione couldn't add anything else. The receiver lay abandoned on the floor while Harry put on some clothes and collected his wand.

He raised it trying to find something in his memory, a place where to direct his thoughts.

If you know where you want to go.

Harry blinked, while a voice echoed softly in his mind. Draco's voice.

The field where we watched the planes leave. Where we counted the stars.

Despite everything, he found himself smiling sweetly, while he raised his wand. He pictured the place, he remembered the smell of the grass.

And then, with a flick of his wrist, he was disappeared.

Go to next part.

people have been to this page since August 18, 2002.  
Part 22: Don't Go Away  
Cold and frosty morning there's not a lot to say  
About the things caught in my mind  
And as the day was dawning my plane flew away  
With all the things caught in my mind

I don't wanna be there when you're ...  
Coming down  
I don't wanna be there when you hit the ground

So don't go away, say what you say  
Say that you'll stay  
Forever and a day ... In the time of my life  
Cos I need more time, yes I need more time  
just to make things right

"Don't Go Away", Oasis

To Draco, who had never been there before, the airport should have appeared as a kaleidoscope of people, sounds and movements, but at the moment, he wasn’t seeing his surrounding. He was still thinking about leaving Harry, trapped in a sticky web of doubts.

So, completely oblivious of the world dancing around him, Draco sat still, waiting for his flight, his gaze lost into nothing and his mind playing a stupid silent minuet.

I'd like to stay and I'd better to go.

I love him and I leave him.

I want him to love me but when he loved me I hurt him.

He says he loves me but he hurt me, deeply.

I wonder what he wants and I don't even know what I want.

Draco had been asking himself the same question since a sleepy Harry had murmured three well-known words, three little damn words that had already decided their life once before, and now, were dangerously about to do it again.

What do I really want? Draco questioned himself again. Then, before he could even try to formulate a coherent answer, an aseptic voice cut through his messed up thoughts.

"Passengers of flight WX-038 to New York leaving at 12:45 are waited at gate 19 for the boarding."

Draco blinked, finally acquainting himself with the notions that: he was in an airport, he was clutching a single business class ticket to New York in his hand right hand, and the voice was calling his flight.

He hadn't washed away his doubts, yet, but, at that point, they didn't matter anymore. He was tired and angry. And it was time to go.

So, hastily, he buried his doubts at the bottom of confused his mind and got up, heading numbly towards gate 19.

As soon as Harry felt the solidity of the ground under his feet he began to run.

Frantically.

He ran as if his life depended on it.

And actually, in a certain way, it did depend on it. On reaching Draco in time. On being able to tell him what he should have told him long time before.

Harry ran and every beat of his heart, every breath and every thought, was for Draco.

In a blind rush he got past the sliding doors of the international departures building, unknowingly assuming that the former Slytherin would have tried to put as much space as possible between himself and the source of his sufferance.

Because you've brought him only sufferance, you know?

Harry knew it. But still he ran.

How can you arrogate the right to harass him further with your unrequited presence?

Harry would have tried to answer to his own mind, but he was in front of the departure screen now. With his muscles screaming for rest, his lungs about to burst into flames and his head pounding for the lack of oxygen, he quickly scanned the list of the next leaving flights.

And while he was focused on flies, destinations and time of departures, it suddenly hit him.

A clear stunning understanding hit him, hard. The inner comprehension that what he was doing was deeply, utterly and definitely selfish.

I'm running. I'm trying to catch him. I'm trying to stop him. To make him stay. Because if Draco leaves... He considered while his sweat suddenly seemed to cool. If he really leaves...

Harry shook his head, preventing any further thought. He knew that Draco leaving wasn't an option to ponder. It wasn't an option, period.

And that was the reason why he couldn't help but being selfish till the end, till Draco would make the decision to stay or to tell him to fuck off.

He couldn't help but try his hardest to stop the disastrous course of events. Events that too often had decided his life without asking his consent.

Not this time. Not without fighting. He promised himself as a particular flashing line on the departure screen caught his attention. Harry blinked, focusing on it.

Flight: WX-038. Destination: New York. Departure: 12:45 - on time. Gate: 19. Status...

He froze for a fraction of second, reading the last bit of information.

...boarding.

But soon as it sunk in his brain, he shook himself out of that unnatural stillness and began to run again.

Straight to the gate 19. Straight to Draco.

Since he couldn't get Harry out of his head, Draco was trying his best to bring his thoughts to a cold detached anger in the time he still had to wait until his plane left definitively. Strangely, he was succeeding.

His brain was now re-processing facts in the way he used to do during his Hogwarts' time: sarcastically, analytically, reasoning.

Harry will remember, Draco was considering when the sign "Gate 19" came into sight. Why am I trying to fool myself? He will remember and, right now, my imagination isn't wild enough to picture what he will eventually do to me. He sighed, observing the people queued behind a thick glass, waiting their turn to go through the only opening in that transparent wall.

Is it this what I really want? Letting him destroy me, then beg him to heal me just to be sure he would tear me apart once again? Am I this screwed up? Or am I just aware that this the best I can long for?

He wondered bitterly, while he reached the queue. Lazily, he assumed that that sort of door was a strange muggles' security measure.

From this point of view leaving or staying hold the same prospective. Choosing or tossing a coin would be the same, then...

Draco shook his head tiredly and looked up, confusedly noticing that his turn had come.

Leaving or staying.

Leaving or staying.

Is it really the same?

Draco didn't know. And this was how he moved the few faltering step that took him through the passage. Behind the glass wall.

As soon as he was on the other side, Draco wondered if he had done the right thing. He sighed deeply and told himself that if it wasn't the right thing, at least it was a different thing.

Then why his own words sounded so strange? He didn't try to fight his clashing feelings this time.

Only few minutes separated him by the definitive step. And nothing was there to change his mind at this point. Nothing there to hold him.

Nothing but his name, desperately called by a distant but well-known voice.

Many times in his life Harry had been near to losing hope. But never he had felt so damn indispensable to keep it in order to maintain his sanity.

Draco was nowhere to be seen. And Gate 19 seemed a distant blur at this point.

But Harry kept running, avoiding people and luggage, giving glances to the signs for the right direction.

There's no time, he thought. Draco, *wait*, he prayed.

And as if somebody up there had listened to him, he turned a corner finally finding the gate.

Finding Draco, waiting for the last check before leaving.

Waiting behind a thick glass wall.

"Draco wait!" Harry managed to blurt out, suddenly noticing that his throat had gone almost completely dry.

He didn't even try pushing past the ward. He ran towards the glass and hit it with the palm of his hand, drawing the attention of some curious. And of Draco.

He had heard the voice, then the tapping. For a moment he felt the urge of ignoring everything, just like he had tried to ignore Harry's love back in seventh year.

Maybe this was the reason why he turned instead. He turned because he was sick of everything. Especially of himself, for having been so stupid to fall in love with Harry and make what he had to make so difficult.

Draco sighed and approached the glass, stopping in front of it. In front of the man he loved and he was trying to hate.

Suddenly, Draco had the sensation that he wasn't facing only Harry. That he was facing everything.

Suddenly his built anger began to vacillate. His cold detachment began to melt as snow under a warm sun.

Suddenly he was there, without prejudices without doubts or fears.

He was there, ready to listen to what Harry had to say.

And ready to decide the next move on the basis of those words.

Damn my situation and the games I have to play  
With all the things caught in my mind  
Damn my education I can't find the words to say  
With all the things caught in my mind

Harry was at loss of words. He had witnessed to such a quick transformation that he was puzzled.

As Draco had turned towards him, his gaze was cold and firm and it had made Harry’s stomach clench in despair, feeling that once again, everything had been settled without consider his opinion. But then in the time it took to be scrutinised by those silver eyes, Draco's expression had softened into a sort of expectation.

Now Harry knew that Draco was waiting for him to decide. And Harry knew that his dream was about to be realized. Finally, for once, it was up to Harry to choose the path.

Then why was he suddenly so damn unsure? Why the sensation of being a selfish bastard was coming back so heavily? Why did he feel so ashamedly out of place? Why the hell was he so sure that Draco couldn't possibly know what was good for him if, despite everything Harry had put him through, still wanted to stay?

Harry had thought he would have had to fight to change things, this time. And he was ready for it. But he wasn't ready for - this.

Uncomfortably, he looked away.

And he missed the sadly resigned look crossing Draco's mercury gaze.

I don't wanna be there when you're ...  
Coming down  
I don't wanna be there when you hit the ground

So don't go away, say what you say  
Say that you'll stay  
Forever and a day ... In the time of my life  
Cos I need more time, yes I need more time  
just to make things right

"Draco..." Harry began.

Please don't leave. Please forgive me. Please.

His thoughts seemed so clear, but he couldn't give them voice.

He shook his head, and then raised his eyes again, desperately. But what he saw only increased his sense of impotence. Draco was looking at him tiredly.

"Please, Draco I..." Harry tried again, frantically, feeling, more than understanding, that things were slipping through his fingers like sand.

As usual.

No. Not this time. No. No. No.

"Please stay. Please," he murmured. Softly. Too softly. Harry wondered, panicking, if his words didn't break through the glass. Draco was still looking at him and his expression was blank.

Disarming blank.

Harry tapped on the glass again with, nervously.

"Don't go away," he tried again, louder, looking straight into those clear pools that Draco's eyes were.

"Don't go away."

Draco had heard this. And even if he hadn't clearly heard what Harry had muttered before, he had caught the words on Harry's lips nevertheless.

But it didn't matter. What mattered was that Harry had hesitated. If he had said something, anything. If he had been angry. If only the light in his eyes wasn't so uncertain, Draco wouldn't have done what he did next.

He wouldn't have raised his hand to his lips and kissed his fingers. He wouldn't have placed them on the glass. He wouldn't have shaken his head softly, dejectedly, while a bitter smile curved his lips.

And he wouldn't have walked away.

Me and you what's going on?  
All we seem to know is how to show  
The feelings that are wrong

At first all Harry noticed was how much that cold arrogant boy has changed. How much pain his eyes held that he gave him that last glance before turning and walking away.

Then he noticed the light halo Draco's warm hand had left on the cold glass. Harry watched it disappearing quickly. As quick as that lump in his throat was beginning to make him difficult to breath. Tentatively, he raised his hand on the glass, placing it on exactly the same spot Draco had touched.

Harry brushed his finger lightly on the cold glass, almost absently.

"I love you, Draco," Harry said, softly, his voice shattering.

But Draco wasn't there to read his lips anymore. Draco had left.

And finally, Harry noticed how much alone he felt. Completely, painfully alone.

Go to next part.

people have been to this page since August 25, 2002.  
Interlude  
There was a boy  
A very strange enchanted boy  
They say he wandered very far, very far  
Over land and sea  
A little shy and sad of eye  
But very wise was he

And then one day  
One magic day he passed my way  
And while we spoke of many things  
Fools and kings  
This he said to me  
"The greatest thing you'll ever learn  
Is just to love and be loved in return"

"Nature Boy", David Bowie & Massive Attack

[-The Greatest Thing-]

Ron was worried. Deeply worried. And it was a strange, since the last time he had felt this way was under Voldemort's threat. Now, considering that, in a way, the object of his worry was still the same, well, it was almost funny. Almost. Because these days, there was nothing funny concerning Harry.

Since Malfoy had left, Harry had not been the same. Well, he tried to act as if nothing had changed, but he couldn't really fool Ron. Not after seven years spent in the same classrooms, sharing the same dormitory, the same fears and the same doubts.

No way.

Ron could easily tell that Harry was fading. As a forgotten fire, that was withering, ready to go out, regardless of the amount of alcohol the Golden Boy could consume, spending sleepless nights, visiting clubs or sitting on his couch and staring at the wall.

Ron would have voiced his suspicions to Hermione, but she was already torturing herself with endless guilt trips to be pushed further. Knowing this, he could only try to ease his girlfriend’s stress and check on Harry, assuring himself that his best friends wasn't about to do anything that he could regret. That everybody could regret.

Everyday, in the afternoon, Ron apparated to Harry's flat. He always brought something to eat and sat with Harry on the couch, carrying on a one-sided conversation about nothing. After two hours, he would leave.

But that was only that beginning. If Harry decided to stay at home, he would sit on the stairs in front of his door, while his friend either got drunk and passed out on the floor or cried his heart out and fell asleep on the couch. Afterwards, Ron would enter the silent flat and check that everything was in order, or as much it could be in order, considering Harry's life, before really leaving.

If Harry, instead, decided to go out, he would follow him, keep him out of trouble, and directed him towards home, which was necessary since he happened oh so often to forget the way. That’s exactly what Harry decided to do on this nigh. Ron frowned, his concern growing, and, buttoning his coat, followed his friend.

Ron sighed, slipping on a seat in a dark corner of the bar. Harry was sitting at the counter, absorbed by watching his reflection shattering within the bottles and the mirror behind them. Ron sipped a bit of tonic water, grimacing at the bitter taste that matched perfectly his bitter thoughts.

"Mr. Weasley?"

Ron blinked raising his gaze and meeting the soft features of a young man's face. He frowned, trying to remember where he had seen them before.

"You don't remember me, do you?" The man asked as he read his confusion, smiling slightly. "Mark. Mark Boylan. We met once or twice when I was with Harry," he supplied.

Ron nodded, slowly, while his eyes unconsciously flickered towards his friend, still sitting at the counter, alone.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Come again?" Ron asked, suspiciously at the direct question.

"What's wrong with him?" Mark simply repeated. "I've never seen him in such a state before." Ron frowned, wondering what this man could possibly want.

"You're wondering what I want, don't you?" Mark cut through his thoughts. "How..." Ron began, but the man ignored him. "I've just a question. Should I worry?" He asked, softly.

Ron looked at him tilting his head on one side. "If I recall correctly, Harry hasn't given you any reason to have friendly feelings. I'd say quite the contrary," he retorted defensively. The red-haired man was slightly disappointed at Mark's lack of reaction. "What can I say? I can't help it. You can call it a habit hard to die. But I can understand your diffidence. In this case, I should go ask him by myself," he finished, shrugging.

"Asking what?"

"What's wrong him."

Ron snorted. "It's a long story, which begins with Harry's special talent to make himself unhappy." Mark shook his head, smiling amused. "I should sit down, then."

"As it suits you," Ron said, shrugging and taking another sip of his tonic water. Mark was waiting, looking at him with a brown soft gaze. An honest gaze that convinced Ron to begin.

"Well. The principal matter is that Harry let him go..."

"Harry?"

Harry closed his eyes and sighed, turning his head slowly, not trusting his movements after three Martini's on a practically empty stomach.

"Hi Mark," he murmured, recognizing the man looking at him with a strange light in his eyes.

"What are you doing here?"

Harry snorted, shaking his head softly. "What does it seem to you?" He asked sarcastically.

"Mmm... Wasting time?" Mark answered innocently.

"I've a lot of time to waste." Harry retorted, reaching for his glass and emptying it all at once.

"I don't think so," Mark pointed out, softly but firmly.

"So, you don't," Harry echoed, giving him an icy glare that, much to his disappoint, didn't seem to have any effect on his former boyfriend, who continued calmly, "Exactly. I don't. Because I've heard to a story, earlier tonight. A really strange one. I thought that you, as a writer, and an awarded one at that, could tell me how it ends. A writer always knows how his stories end."

"Well, this isn't my story, Mark," Harry muttered, somehow feeling that the other wasn't going to give up.

"So, it isn't," Mark mocked. "But still, I could tell you how I see it ending... There's this main character, Harry Potter," he began, ignoring Harry's sudden flinch. "I think he will get up and run. He will run home to take what he can need to be on the next fly to -" Mark seemed to ponder his next words "- oh well, let's say New York. Our Harry Potter will arrive in New York and he will look for that person. Desperately. And he will find him, sooner or later. He will talk to him. Maybe he will discover that that person was just waiting for him to show up. I would, you know? " He added softly. Then he sighed, giving Harry a strange look before resuming, "Or maybe that person will tell Harry to sod off. It's possible. Everything is possible. But, one way or another, Harry Potter, the Harry Potter I know, would try his best to obtain what he wants, if he really wants it,"

Harry blinked in the dim light of the place. He looked at Mark and seemed to have really seen him for the first time in his life. Mark who now smiled softly.

"But well, this is what a humble reader thinks," he said dejectedly. "Now it's up to the great writer to scribble the next chapter. The last chapter."

Harry blinked again. Suddenly, the Martini he had swallowed seemed to evaporate from his stomach.

"I... I have to go..." he murmured, getting up.

"Yes, you do. Good luck, Harry," Mark said softly and Harry stopped, before leaving.

"I'll call you. I'll call you when I'm back," he said quickly. "When we are back," he corrected himself, making Mark smile.

"I know," Mark answered with a nod. "We have a deal, remember?" he added.

Harry nodded and left.

"Where the hell...?"

"Calm down, Ron," Mark said lazily. "Can I call you Ron?"

"Where is he?" Ron asked frantically, ignoring the question.

"Where he should be," he answered. "And there's no need for you to run after him. You won't catch him. Because he has a goal, now. And nobody could stop him," Mark explained.

"You..."

"Yeah.

"Uhm..."

"Yes?"

"Do you think he will do it?" Ron asked concerned.

Mark seemed to ponder Ron's question, before answering with a mischievous smirk: "Well, he's Harry Potter, after all..."

Ron sighed, shaking his head.

"Harry Fucking Potter," he quoted darkly, finishing his tonic water.

The two looked at each other for a moment. Just a moment before bursting out laughing.

tbc...

people have been to this page since November 24, 2002.


	2. epilogue

Epilogue: [-Let Me Love You-]

Let me love you true, let me rescue you  
Let me bring you to where two roads meet  
Oh come back above  
Where there is only love, only love

"The Ground Beneath Her Feet", U2

The last note dimmed in the air and applauses began. He got up slowly from the piano and bowed slightly to the people in the jazz club before leaving the stage. Outside, the night was waiting for him. A cold night, as all the nights spent alone.

He put on his coat and left. Walking down the dark icy streets, he blew on his fingers before pushing his hands deep into his pockets. And then, as soon as his skin regained its sensibility, he felt it. Soft, silky. His right hand closed cautiously around the unknown object and when he opened it again under the dim light of the streetlamps, Draco Malfoy froze. A tiny white rose blossom lay in his palm.

It took a while before he could react.

"Potter."

Draco's voice resounded cold and firm into the emptiness of the street. "Come out. I know you are there," he said as he turned. And Harry was there, an older version of that boy who had hid behind an invisibility cloak and roamed the halls of Hogwarts at improbable hours.

Draco stared at him without moving. Harry stared back. They didn't know what to say. What to think. Finally, Harry took a step toward him.

"Don't," Draco said softly. Harry stopped and looked at him interrogatively.

Draco took a deep breath, trying to control his heartbeat. His brain. "Will you ever stop hiding under that damn cloak?" he asked tiredly.

"Draco..."

Draco closed his eyes. He had forgotten how Harry said his name: calm and sure.

"Draco, I've looked everywhere for you," Harry said.

"Always the good seeker, then. You've found me. Now, what do you want, Potter? What else can I do for you?" he asked, opening his arms in sarcastic defeat.

"Talk. Just talk, Draco," Harry answered softly.

"But we are talking, aren't we?" he objected, faking innocence. "Or were you being metaphorical? In that case, I hope you brought cash. I'm not giving myself away for free," Draco pointed out, intimately enjoying Harry's suddenly shocked expression. "Not this time, at least," he added darkly.

"You're wrong, I..." Harry insisted, coming closer.

"Don't move," Draco ordered, drawing out his wand and pointing it at Harry. The wand that meant so many things to him. So many painful, sad, lost things.

"I've said no this time, Potter," he explained calmly, his voice barely a whisper. "No more stupidity. No more fair play. No more forgiveness. If you come any closer, the world will lose a good writer."

Harry seemed to ponder Draco's threat. And finally, he resumed his walking.

"Potter, I warn you..."

"Draco, please. Listen at me. A few minutes. I'm asking only for a few minutes. Then, if you'll ask me to leave, I'll do it, and I won't come back again," he said, nearing calmly.

"A few minutes? What could you have to tell me in few minutes that you haven't been able to say in two bloody months?" Draco asked angrily, his wand still pointed at Harry's chest.

"That I love you," Harry answered. And with this, his hand took hold of Draco's wrist. Gently.

"Potter. What kind of joke is this?" Draco asked, frantically.

"No joke. It's the truth."

Harry's closeness was dangerous. Draco was torn between the urge to pull him closer and the need to push him away.

"The truth?" he repeated, smirking viciously. "You don't know the truth, Harry. If you did, you wouldn't be here. If you did, you wouldn't sing me stupid love songs. You would probably beat me to a bloody pulp. Again," Draco said, struggling to get free. Harry let him go immediately and watched him take several steps back.

"Well, nice chat anyway," Draco said, with a faked cheerfulness. "But I really have to go. It has been a tiring night. A night full of surprises. Bring my greetings to the new couple and please, get out of my life once and for all," he spat out before turning, ready to leave.

"I've been wondering why you did it."

Draco chose to ignore Harry’s words. He kept walking, one step after the other.

"I've been wondering why you made me forget."

But as much as he would have liked to, he couldn't ignore this. He couldn't ignore the thought that Harry knew, and that, even after he had remembered, he had come looking for Draco. He turned, his grey eyes wide, his gaze meeting a sadly smiling Harry.

"That day, when you left at the end of our agreement... I woke up alone. I found your note on the bedside table. I... Oh, hell, I don't know how it happened, but I remembered. Everything. Hogwarts. Our seventh year. Us."

Draco shook his head dejectedly and sighed.

"So what? Do you want my apologies now?" he asked softly.

"Why did you do it, Draco?" Harry asked again, ignoring Draco's question.

"Why? Well, I don't know fucking why!" Draco snapped. "I was scared. Of you. Of that love you claimed to have for me. Of what could have happened if I would have let you love me. Is it so important knowing why? I did it and you hated me for this. You hate me for this. And that is all!"

"You're right. I don't really want to know why," Harry said softly, more talking to himself than anyone else. "But you're wrong. I didn't hate you back then. In those moments in which you had my future in your hands and you decided what to do about it... well, I didn't hate you. I couldn't even if I had wanted to. And now... Now, I understand," he said, looking straight at Draco. "I understand that what you did wasn't for you. It was for me."

Draco swallowed and he felt his mouth go inexplicably dry. A sort of desperation was surrounding him. "You didn't answer me," he said after a while. "What do you want now? What you do want from me?"

No hesitation, no thinking twice. Because Harry had always known the answer to that question and he wasn't going to let everything slip away from his fingers. Not this time.

"You."

It was barely a whisper, but Draco felt it like a slap. He clenched his fist and narrowed his eyes.

"Fuck, Harry! Be serious!" he cried, his voice trembling, dangerously near to shattering.

"I'm being serious. I don't recall ever being more serious than now," he replied, rubbing his forehead absently. "I want you. This mess has gone on for too long. Just let me try," Harry said, looking straight into Draco's eyes.

"I'm not promising you anything. I can't promise you a perfect heaven. I can't promise you undying passion and romance and eternal sunshine. I can't and I don't want to. I don't want to lie to you Draco, not again. I just want you to know that I'll try. If you want, if you let me, I'll try the hardest I can to make things right."

Draco looked at him, silently. He wished that he had the strength to reply, to resist, because Harry's words were making his certainties crumble.

"Please, Draco," Harry said at last. "Let me love you."

And with this, he fell silent. Waiting. Hoping.

The phone rang. Mark sighed and turned in his bed. The radio alarm on his bedside table showed that it was half past three in the morning.

Mark groped for the receiver and answered.

"Yeah?"

"Mark?"

Mark blinked in the darkness of his room.

"Harry? It's half past three in the morning... What's up?" he asked, tiredly.

Harry remained silent for few moments.

"Sorry to wake you up. But I'm back. We're back. I promised you I would call you. So here I am. Goodnight, Mark. And thanks," he said softly, before ending the conversation.

Mark stared at the phone in his hand while the meaning of Harry's words finally sunk in his brain.

"Goodnight Harry," he whispered then, and while doing it, he found himself smiling happily.

Harry left the phone on his bedside table and turned. At his side, Draco was sleeping, his hand abandoned on Harry's pillow.

He had been caressing Harry's hair until falling asleep.

Harry smiled, closing his fingers around Draco's hand, gently, and stayed so, watching his lover sleep for what could have been an eternity.

Around them, the night was warm and peaceful.

And Harry's last wish closing his eyes was for it to last forever.

End

Notes

A few words about "Just This?"...

So. This is all, people. What else am I supposed to say? Probably that I'm sorry. Oh well.

I'm sorry if this didn't satisfied your expectations. I'm sorry because I've just realized that I could have done better and I didn't. You know what I mean. And I'm sorry I took so long. There, I've done it. Now, accept my deepest apologies or kick my ass. I don't know what else to do.

A few words about the future...

Mmm... I'm planning several things. Maybe even a sequel. who knows?

Soon enough, "Just This?" will be revised and archived on my site http://digilander.libero.it/storytellerland. Short fics, new ideas and everything else will also be posted there. I don't know how long I'll be around on FF.net.

About anything else, contact me: bluejusttooblue@yahoo.com

I don't bite and the worst I can do is answer.

Thanks to:

Titti, who betaed the whole damn thing. She resisted till the end. And she earned my undying gratitude for this.

Also, those who sent me e-mails, those who commented on my deadjournal, those who read this and liked it and those who read this and didn't like it.

Thanks, really.

See you soon.

blue

From 


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